Deposition
by happycat12
Summary: England is falling apart. With the Royal Family under threat will the Royal Princess escape with her life?
1. Chapter 1

So this is a kind of AU fiction but drawing on some real world historical and current events that have happened for inspiration. I have messed around with some of the canon in the Royals a little bit but not too much.

* * *

Queen Helena throws down the newspaper in disgust.

"Did you know support for the Monarchy has now fallen to 31 percent?" she spits out. "Before Cyrus took the throne nine years ago it was at 67 percent."

Rachel nods back, calmly unflappable. "King Cyrus was immensely unpopular its true and his propensity for spending taxpayers money on Parliamentary orgies did inflame anti monarchist opinion, but we have a change to turn public opinion around now. King Simon has only been on the throne for ten days and we will work to convince the people that Cyrus' younger brother is nothing like him. King Simon is modest and dignified and will become a man of the people."

Queen Helena sighs. "It's a pity Cyrus was so insistent on controlling the media and keeping Simon out of the spotlight at all times when he was in power. Simon's a good man but no one knows that at the moment."

Rachel smiles back at her. "Then let's tell them that."

She places a list in front of the Queen. "I have a list of projects the King wants to progress. Which would you like me to publicise first?"

Helena glances through the list. "This one I think," she replies pointing. "And then this one after that."

Rachel smiles and whips away the list. "I'll start work immediately, Your Majesty" she replies and silently exits the room.

Helena glances over the rest of the newspaper page in front of her. 'British economy in freefall,' 'France latest country to exit EU' and 'US school shooting claims 14' are the headlines that greet her.

Unfortunately restoring the monarchy's popularity are not the only challenges Simon will face. Since Britain exited the EU two years ago, a string of other countries have followed and both Europe and Britain are suffering the political and economic instability critics warned would follow. The world's biggest economy - China - is in the midst of a major recession and Britain's in the worst shape its been for several hundred years.

The Queen smiles grimly. Still, she supposes she should be grateful that she hasn't been greeted with another photo of her daughter's 'Royal Beaver' on display as she was last month.

* * *

It's 9pm on a Thursday evening and Princess Eleanor is occupying herself in the usual way.

She's dressed herself in a tiny black fitted dress, accompanied by ridiculous heels and too much makeup.

The car is coming to collect her for a night out in 15 minutes but right now she's on a mission to get high and moderately drunk just to get the night started.

She reasons with herself that she needs this as a release because ever since Cyrus died her mother's been worse than ever.

Although her father's been sworn in as King, the official coronation is still two weeks away and she's spent today being prodded and poked (and not in the way she likes) for gown and tiara fittings. This afternoon her mother dragged her and her two brothers down to Westminster Abbey where they spent three bloody hours being told where to stand and what to say for a ceremony that should take 45 minutes.

When Cyrus was King being bad was a good thing, because anything shocking she did would help to discredit Cyrus' reign. But since her father was sworn in she's been trying to be good for his sake. But on days like today its damn near impossible.

She mid way through using her eyeshadow compact to sort the white cocaine powder in front of her into a neat line, when the doors burst open.

Eleanor freezes and two men in army uniforms with guns burst into her room.

"Put your hands in the air," yells a dark haired officer with an upper class accent.

Eleanor slowly raises her arms in the air. Further down the corridor she can hear the sound of yelling and the clatter of heavy boots on polished wooden floors.

"Stand up," the other one orders. Eleanor blinks slightly at his American accent - not something she would have expected in the British military.

Eleanor rises to her feet, keeping her hands in the air.

"Turn around and face us," the American barks. His face is unusually handsome with chiselled features and piercing blue eyes, but his voice is cold as ice.

Eleanor completes a quarter turn so she is face on with the two army officers a couple of feet away from her.

All her life she's been cosseted and protected by the state from the people. To have two members of the military burst into her room and point their guns at her for reasons unknown to her is terrifying but she's not about to let them know how she feels.

"Last time I checked I was a Princess and you were employed by the government to protect our country not to invade my home and threaten me. I'm curious to hear your explanation for this behaviour," Eleanor says haughtily.

"You are to come with us," the British officer informs her. "You are being moved to a new location along with your family."

"Not bloody likely," Eleanor counters. The few drinks and weed she's just inhaled have gone to her head already and she's feeling defiant.

The British officer doesn't say anything in reply just shifts his head ever so slightly to indicate something to his colleague.

A second later the American picks her up and dumps her over his shoulder so that she is now looking upside down at the expensive Turkish rug which graces her bedroom floor.

"Hey," Eleanor protests breathlessly. "Put me down," she pummels her fists against his back.

The two soldiers make their way down the corridor, one holding the Princess by a secure grip around her legs. It's shocking to Eleanor how easily he did that and how little effect her resistance is having. And its about now that she regrets wearing a ridiculously short dress, but at least she did her father a favour and wore some knickers this evening.

The next thing she knows she is being unceremoniously dumped the back of a military van. Beside her is her older brother and her mother is shoved in a minute later.

Robbie leans over and squeezes her hand as Eleanor looks back at him wide eyed and frightened. "We're going to be fine Lenny. I'll take care of you. I promise," his voice sounds fierce.

"Do you know what this is about?" Eleanor whispers.

"No idea," he shakes his head. "But you better do what they say for now. I think-"

Their conversation is cut short when four army officers with guns clamber into the truck. One of them stands up and thumps against the roof, and then the truck starts up in a noisy burst of exhaust.

They roll out of the Palace gates. Eleanor stares out behind them where two more trucks follow them. The night is moonless and even though its July and pleasantly warm she feels a chill setting into her heart. She has no idea where they are going or what will happen to them next.

She turns and looks away from the road behind them to see one of the officers - the American - staring at her with a inscrutable expression.

She looks back at him for a few seconds then turns away and nestles in closer to the warmth of her brother's shoulder for protection.


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere along the way Eleanor falls asleep with her head resting against her brother's shoulder as they travel through English country lanes under a pitch black sky.

The next thing she remembers is being prodded awake by a soldier with the butt of his rifle and ordered off the truck.

She stumbles off the truck, bleary eyed, thinking with a sinking heart that this is confirmation that last night's events unfortunately weren't the confused imaginings of her drug addled brain.

Standing in a row, the rest of her family looks tired and dishevelled. Even her normally perfectly coiffed mother has flat hair and has broken one of her stiletto heels. In spite of that they have a quiet dignity and solidarity about them.

Opposite them a row of a dozen soldiers stand holding their rifles.

Her mother steps forward to pull Eleanor into her arms. Normally she wouldn't have a bar of this kind of behaviour but yesterday's drunken defiance has worn off and now she is just frightened to wake to the cold light of day to find herself once again confronted by men with guns and no explanation of what on earth is going on.

Eleanor nestles her head against her mother's chest and allows her mother to wrap her arms around her. Beside them her father rests an arm on Liam's shoulder.

"I am the King of England," her father declares, his gaze sweeping down the row of soldiers opposite him. "And I demand to know under who's instructions you have abducted my family, terrified my children, manhandled by daughter and my wife and brought us to God knows where."

There is a silence for a full minute before one of the officers opposite them steps forward.

"I am Major William Norris. I am in charge of this operation. Your family has been temporarily removed from the capital for your own safety."

The King eyeballs him. "If my family are to be removed from their home surely I deserve to be consulted on this matter before it occurs instead of being summarily herded like cattle onto a truck in the dead of night. Last time I checked this was a democracy we were living in and the Royal Family was accorded a little respect."

"Your Majesty," the Major draws himself up to address the King. "The orders came from my superior and were carried out as per instructions."

"I see," the King replies, in a voice that suggests that he clearly does not see or agree with whatever instructions have been issued. "Would you please inform me then what the circumstances are which dictate we be removed from London?"

"Your Majesty, I regret I am not at liberty to say," the reply comes back promptly.

Although he keeps it well in check, the King has a temper which all three of his children have inherited, and Eleanor can see from the way her father's cheeks are starting to redden and his eyes flash dark that he is about to display it right now.

"That is quite ridiculous," the King snaps back. "You had better get your superior on the phone very swiftly and perhaps he can explain what the hell is going on to me."

"Your Majesty, I'm afraid I can't do that and I'm not-"

The Queen interrupts his reply. "If you can't do that you can at least tell us where on earth you have taken us. This place smells awfully -" she breaks and takes a sniff of the country air which is rich with the scent of cow manure, "rural," she finishes disdainfully.

"I regret to say I cannot give out that information either. Now my men will escort your family inside where you will be held for your protection until it is safe to leave."

The soldiers break up with some of them coming round behind the Royal Family to follow behind them while others form up at either side. After a minute of watching them, her mother decides to take the lead and heads towards the country farm house the Major indicates they are to walk towards. Eleanor picks her way through the field in her ridiculous heels, following after the brothers and father.

* * *

Eleanor looks out the barred window of the upstairs bedroom longingly as the light starts to fade.

It's been nearly 24 hours since her family were snatched away from the Palace and 26 hours since she's had a cigarette.

She has no idea how the rest of her family are doing because she hasn't seen them since this morning. When they arrived at the house each one of them was led away separately and locked into different rooms.

She can't complain that they haven't been fed because they've had breakfast, lunch and dinner now, although it was awfully bland slop which she assumes is something the army specialises in.

Eleanor turns at the sound of the door unlocking hopefully, imagining that perhaps one of her brothers or her father might be allowed in. She's loath to admit it but even her mother would be welcome right now.

She's disappointed to find its her soldier jailer once again. The American has been the only one guarding her and he's been in and out several times today to bring her food or escort her to the toilet.

"Did you bring me cigarettes?" she demands. This is the third time she's asked now. She's been getting withdrawal symptoms since lunchtime and its really messing with her head now, making her snappy and irritable.

He shakes his head. A couple of the soldiers downstairs smoke and he could easily get her some cigarettes but he's in no mood to do her any favours based on how she's treated him today.

She rolls her eyes. "At least one of your fellow soldiers must smoke, surely,?" she snaps.

He ignores her and picks up her half eaten dinner plate. "Not up to your usual discerning standards, Princess?" he questions, coolly.

"It was revolting," Eleanor replies. To hell with diplomacy, he and his kind deserve none of it. "As is the way you're keeping my family here under illegal detention with no one's authority but your own."

She pushes herself away from the window and whirls around to face him. "And no one will tell us why," she adds in frustration. "We don't know whether we're actually being held here for our protection or whether you're planning to murder us all in our beds."

"Well that would make my life a lot easier," he replies blandly.

He's rapidly coming to the conclusion that he drew the short straw in being appointed to guard the Princess. Although he's been dealing with her for less than twelve hours she's already trying his patience to an extreme degree. Of course he's heard of her reputation as a wild, slutty, drug addicted problem child. But in person, she's also spoilt, demanding and rude to boot.

And worst of all is the fact that being near her makes him keep imagining doing things to her in his head. He knows that the fact that he's been stuck on a military base for months with no female company except for some fairly butch female specimens covered in camouflage is probably partly to blame. And of course he's seen her picture before in the papers and on TV but in the flesh she's achingly beautiful, with porcelain skin, silky dark hair and a body made for sin which is currently barely veiled in some skimpy little dress.

She storms over to him and raises her palm towards him. He's quick enough to work out her intention before she gets a chance to slap him.

"You're not in control here," he informs her in cool, carefully controlled voice, grasping her hand tightly. "I'm running this show and if you know what's good for you you'll do as I say, when I say it."

"I'm the Princess," she fires back at him, attempting unsuccessfully to wrench her arm out of his grasp. "You don't tell me what to do."

He looks back at her calculatingly and steps forward so she's pressed against the wall. "That's where your wrong Princess. Round here I make the rules and you follow them."

He continues. "So here's a new rule for you. You can have something you want if I get something I want. I'll trade you cigarettes for sex."

His hand trails seductively down her side to settle on her waist as she stares back at him stunned.

A minute later she shoves him away. "I won't be blackmailed into sex with you."

It's not that he's not good looking, in fact he's dangerously attractive, but the idea of screwing someone who might quite possibly be out to kill her and her family is just too objectionable.

He leans forward and before she even realises what he's doing his lips are locked tightly against hers and he is kissing her as if he's attempting to suck the life out of her.

He steps back and regards her with a smug stare. "I think the correct term is blackmarket goods. And I'm fairly certain you'll change your mind," he replies confidently.

With that he turns away from her and exits the room swiftly without another word.

* * *

She's almost recovered from his kiss when comes back into the room. The bastard has scored a couple of cigarettes from his fellow soldiers and proceeds to sit down next to her on the bed and start smoking one with a lazy grin on his face.

She gets up and moves away from him but the scent fills the room and she can't help but be drawn back closer towards him.

After five minutes of this she's desperately craving a drag. The scent is tantalising. Intoxicating.

She stands in front of him. "Fine," she snaps. "Your slimy, underhand tactics have worked. But the going price for a cigarette is a quid or two and even the lowliest whore charges more than that so I want to see my Dad too. Now hand over the cigarettes you evil fucker," she demands, holding her hand out.

He smirks and passes her two cigarettes. "I'll take you to see your Dad tomorrow."

They sit in silence and smoke - him in quiet triumph, her seething with resentment. She manages to draw out the cigarette for as long as possible until he steps towards the door, resecures the locks then turns back around to look at her.

"Stand up," he demands.

She bends down to reluctantly stub out the cigarette and then rises to her feet elegantly.

"Take off your dress," he commands, eyes glued to hers.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the reviews. Yep as one reviewer said 'Bad Jasper' is back! Ohh and he's so wicked!

And this is M rated because Jasper is bad...

* * *

"Take off your dress," he commands, eyes glued to hers.

She's watching him resentfully with her chin high in the air like the Princess she is, and she doesn't comply.

"Take off your dress," he repeats. "Or I'll come over there and rip it off myself."

She blanches at that. One look at his face convinces her his threat is serious and if he does that she's have nothing at all to wear and she doesn't need that kind of humiliation as well as being held hostage.

She bends down and grabs the hem of her dress and tugs it over her head. Its a snug fit so it takes a little while to get it over her head.

When she has it off she holds it front of her body, arms crossed, so he can see as little of her underwear clad form as possible.

He's still watching her closely, never breaking eye contact. She thinks he's trying to intimidate her into dropping her arms and any remaining resistance just with a glance.

He starts to undress, still watching her. He takes off his army uniform with a quick efficiency until he's left only in his boxers.

Then he strolls over to her with an expression reminiscent of a cat inspecting the mouse it has just caught and is about to torment before he eventually kills it.

Her stomach clenches and her lips tremble, because he's so dangerous but he's also so damn good looking, with chiselled features and a toned well muscled body like some kind of demonic adonis.

He grabs hold of her arms and drops the dress on the floor then lowers her arms to her sides, trapping her where she is.

The next thing she knows his hands are systematically stripping her of underwear. Then he picks her up and throws her down on the bed, his hands tangling into her hair.

"I think I'm really going to enjoy fucking you," he says into her ear. His voice is filled with lust and his breath is hot against her cheek and she wants to say something back that's spiteful and rude but before she has a chance his lips lock against hers. He doesn't let her up for air as his mouth plunders hers. She feels breathless and is starting to feel dizzy when he finally removes his mouth from hers.

His mouth starts sliding down her neck onto her chest where he trails his lips over her breasts as her breath catches in her throat. He smirks to himself at the sound.

His hands are working their way down her stomach until they settle between her legs and then his lips are back on hers as his fingers start to probe inside her. She wants to protest and push him off but the more he keeps going the better it starts to feel. She is already shifting under him as he keeps doing it and pretty soon she knows she's going to be moaning in pleasure. But he never lets her gets that far.

She can feel him hard against her stomach and then he withdraws his fingers. The bed shifts as he positions himself between her thighs and slides into her and he might be a manipulating asshole but that doesn't stop him from feeling like heaven inside her. He starts moving, thrusting in and out of her.

To him she feels like heaven too. Her skin is warm and soft and she's quite beautiful. When he's inside her she's a tight fit against him and the friction is incredible. She can't stop herself from wrapping her legs around his back so he can go deeper still.

The rest of the farmhouse is quiet.

He has his arms pinioning her underneath him and when he starts picking up his pace, thrusting inside her again and again, she thinks the old bed they're on might give out. It starts creaking with every movement and the headboard slams into the wall as he rocks back and forth pounding into her. She hopes to god one of her family isn't on the other side of the wall because prostituting herself for cigarettes is hardly her finest moment and she's not keen on them finding out about it.

But as he keeps moving inside her, all thoughts of other things are dispelled and all she can think about is the sensations he's making her feel. When her breaths starts coming in quick shallow gasps and her face flushes pink and little sounds start falling from her mouth she knows she can't hold on any longer. Above her, he's started uttering guttural sounds of pleasure and he can see from her face that she's that far gone. He clamps his mouth down on hers as a moan starts to escape her mouth so that she can't wake up the house and then he thrusts into her a few final times, spurting sticky semen inside her.

It takes him a good minute to catch his breath while he lies there with her legs still spread around him.

From underneath him he feels a soft thud. "Get off me," Eleanor demands, pushing a hand into his chest.

He stays where he is for a moment longer, holding her in his arms then rolls himself off her.

He busies himself pulling on his uniform while she scrambles to collect her underwear and dress.

He moves towards the door and grabs the handle. "I was right. You were a good lay," he announces, grinning.

Eleanor looks up from the bed and gives him a look filled with pure hate. "Fuck you."

He smirks. "You just did Princess. For the price of two cigarettes. Quite the bargain at my end I'd say."

Eleanor narrows her gaze at him. "You are such a wanker. Get out," she yells.

He's still standing at the door, wearing that same cocky grin he had when she agreed to his stupid sleazy trade.

"Get out," she screams at him again, and this time her voice trembles.

"Fine," he replies. "Let me know when you want some more cigarettes Princess. I'll be happy to oblige," he adds, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

He turns and exits the room at that.

On the bed Eleanor wraps her hands around her still naked body, and swipes a hand over her eyes which are suspiciously moist.

She takes a deep breath. Whatever has happened between them, she's going to forget it and there's absolutely no way she will let that bastard make her cry. Ever.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing she remembers the next morning is the American shaking her shoulder.

"Leave me alone," she mutters in protest, pushing the hair off her face.

He didn't stay after extorting some hate sex from her last night so at first she's confused as to why he's there.

"Get dressed," he instructs her. "I'll take you to see your Dad."

That makes her sit up. She feels underneath the sheets to find she's only wearing underwear.

"Turn around," she tells him.

He rolls his eyes. "You do remember last night?" he questions. "I have seen you naked before."

"Very little of it. You were perfectly forgettable," she lies, just to spite him. In fact he was everything but forgettable.

His jaw tightens in anger. It seems to have worked. "I'm pretty sure you're lying," he fires back at her.

"Turn around," she repeats again. "Otherwise we'll never going to get out of here."

This time he complies, turning his back on her.

"I'm decent," she announces a minute later.

"Based on the tabloid headlines I've read about you I think that's debatable," he replies, smirking as he turns back around to face her.

She glares at him, narrowing her eyes. "Are you always such an asshole?," she demands.

He considers her question. "Essentially yes. But to be fair you're far worse than anyone I've had to deal with in the military so that does need to be taken into consideration. All your life you've been surrounded by people who like to lick your boots and never challenge anything you do so you probably have no idea how infuriating you can be in person."

Eleanor stares back at him, mouth open. Aside from her mother no one has ever spoken to her like that. No one would dare.

"I'm the-"

"Princess. Yes we've established that before," Jasper interrupts her. "Now do you want to see your father or not because if you do we need to go now before anyone else wakes up. You're not supposed to have contact with the rest of your family."

He unlocks the door and gestures her towards it. She's started thinking about the possibility of escape when he clamps an arm on hers firmly and effectively shuts down that train of thought.

They move down the hallway to a room three doors down where a soldier is sleeping against the wall. Jasper steps forward and fishes a key from his pocket then unlocks the door.

They step inside and Jasper quietly closes the door.

Her father is asleep on the bed, fully clothed and covered in a blanket.

She goes over to him and sits down on the bed. "Dad," she shakes his shoulder gently.

It takes a minute to rouse him from sleep.

He sits up, blinking his eyes. "Sweetheart," he says, using the name she remembers from childhood. "What are you doing here?"

"He let me come and see you," Eleanor says, gesturing to the American. She narrows her eyes and glares at him for a moment just to make sure she doesn't give off the impression she likes him or something. "Don't tell your guard because I'm not supposed to be here."

The King draws his daughter into his arms. "Well I'm pleased to see you. Are you ok? No one has hurt you have they?" he asks with concern.

His daughter is 21 and beautiful and the dozen soldiers he was faced with yesterday morning look like likely lads. He sincerely hopes none of them have laid a finger on her.

"Of course not," Eleanor assures him. "Nobody has done anything to me," she lies with ease. The last thing she wants her father to find out about is her guard extorting her for sex in exchange for cigarettes because that would make him very mad. And she couldn't bear the thought of her father getting hurt or injured by one of the soldiers for attempting to protect her.

It's just as well its not her mother she's talking to because she hasn't been able to shower yet and American's cologne is still clinging to her from last night. Her mother can sniff the scent of sex at a few yards but her father is perfectly oblivious, thank goodness.

"Dad are you alright here? Are they feeding you enough?" she questions, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

He nods, "three square meals a day. Are you getting the same?" he asks.

She nods back, making a face. "Yes, but awful stuff. Dinner tasted like the had put brussel sprouts in there and they're only fit for pigs," she declares.

He smiles back at her. "That won't do you any harm. You make sure you eat everything up you're given."

Eleanor lowers her voice. "Dad why do you think they're keeping us here? What do you think has happened?"

He sighs. "I've been thinking about that a lot and I honestly don't know. It's possible there's been another demonstration that's gotten out of hand," he suggests.

There have been several protest in the capital over the past six months as the economic situation has deteriorated and jobs have been slashed and two of these have ended in violent clashes between police and protesters.

"Perhaps if there was a TV or if we were allowed our phones back we could work out more about what's going on," her father adds. All of their phones were confiscated by the soldiers in the trucks.

"I hope we'll be allowed to go home soon," Eleanor confides, resting her head against her father's shoulder. "This is like prison here. Only more boring. And with less drugs."

The King smiles to himself. "Eleanor, you've never actually been to prison, you know."

"Yes but I know what its like from the TV programmes and the movies," Eleanor explains earnestly. "And trust me, its a lot like this only with more fights and more excitement and lots of drugs. The food seems pretty similar though," she adds, considering.

Eleanor looks up with a thought. "Dad are you taking your medication here?" she questions.

Her father is under Doctor's orders to take medication each day for his blood pressure.

He shakes his head. "I don't have it with me. It's usually in my pocket but I think I lost it. It may have fallen out while we were in the trucks," he tells her.

"Oh Dad, you have to take your medication," Eleanor replies, the worry evident in her voice.

She turns to the American and addresses him for the first time, oblivious to the fact that he's been listening to their entire conversation. "My father may have lost his blood pressure medication in one of the trucks we were shifted in. He has to take it each day otherwise he could get sick. Will you please check and see if it in one of the trucks?" she asks in her most polite voice.

He looks back and her and then nods. "I'll check it after I've taken you back to your room Your Highness. We do need to head back now," he tells her.

Eleanor nods reluctantly. "Of course," she stands up. On an impulse she bends over her father and kisses him on the cheek. "I love you Dad," she says softly. She wants him to know that in case anything does happen to them.

"I love you too sweetheart," her father replies back, hugging her. "And your brothers and your mother. Be sure to tell them that if you see them," he adds.

"I will," Eleanor promises. It flickers across her mind that probably the only way she will get to see anyone else in her family anytime soon is if she lets that awful American screw her again. And that idea evokes a strange mix of distaste and vague longing, so she immediately squashes the thought down inside her.

As she steps towards the door her father addresses the American who has his hand on the door. "Captain," he says, taking in his rank from his uniform. "Please take good care of my daughter. She's precious to me."

The American looks back at him and meets his eyes levelly. "I'll do my best Your Majesty."


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you so much for all your reviews. Hope you like the next chapter, its my personal favourite from the story to date!

I agree with the reviewer about the Penelope Maribel plastic surgery storyline - it was stupid! They were so funny in series 1, and then not funny in s2 (ps I wonder that the story writers never wrote a scenes where both of them came on to Jasper - would have been hilarious to see what he would so. Not sure if he would be horrified or would knock them out or something. That was just begging to be written as they both slobbered over any attractive man).

Satorare - I think you might be alone in the pro brussel sprout club! I'm with Eleanor on this one... I like most vegetables but urrgh brussel sprouts... No thanks

* * *

The next day passes slowly. After she has visited her father she goes back to bed for three hours.

At nine the American brings her breakfast and tells her he managed to find her father's medication in the back of one of the trucks which makes him mildly less hateful. She brings herself to thank him for this.

Then after that she demands to be taken to the bathroom to take a shower.

She finds a robe hung up in her room and decides to put this on so she can wash her dress and underwear. When she gets to the laundry she has absolutely no idea what to do and her guard has to show her how to use the washing machine.

Lunch is bland of course and then its back to the dreary monotony of being stuck in the same four walls for another day with absolutely nothing to do. There is no TV, her phone has been removed and there is no means of entertainment except staring out the window at the same scene for hour after hour.

She has one of her little going out bags with her with her makeup compact and lipstick, and folding hairbrush in it and there's a mirror in the corner of the room, so she whiles away a good half hour feathering eyeshadow onto her eyes, putting on foundation and lipstick and styling her hair how she likes it.

Once she's done that she fossicks through the cupboard in the room, pulling out everything she comes across and examining it carefully. She finds some old paperback novels whose storylines look terrible and some old sheets and children's toys. At the very back of the cupboard she finds some old clothes and her heart actually skips a beat in excitement when she sees the bright colours and vintage fabrics.

Most of the clothes are horrible but amongst them she finds a cool aqua green short 60s shift dress. It looks like its made for a girl of 12 or 13 and she can easily get into it even though its considerably shorter on her than she imagines would have been considered decent in the 60s. She takes a good couple of moments to admire herself in the mirror approvingly. There's also a 70s knee length pencil shirt and white blouse which is almost wearable, if a little too big.

The next thing she finds that intrigues her is a wedding dress which looks as if its from the early 1970s. It's an empire line gown in white lace with a round neckline and a simple but flattering cut. Folded neatly into the cardboard box its stored in is a net veil. For want of anything better to do she puts the whole thing on and looks back at her reflection critically. It actually suits her. The dress clings to her figure well, enhancing and emphasising her curves. The cream veil looks elegant against the fall of her dark hair.

She smooths it down, wondering who the dress belonged to and whether they got their happily ever after.

She's so wrapped up in her thoughts she doesn't hear the soft click of the door.

"I don't," the American announces, taking in the view of the back of her dress. Around her are strewn a mish mash of vintage clothes in different colours and fabrics.

She turns around and looks at him and it startles him. She looks so elegant and delicately beautiful he's momentarily at a loss for words.

Her expression is half haughty and half guilty child whose been caught with her fingers in the pie. "Yes well I don't with you either. Though I do appreciate your declining a question that's never even been asked. Very chivalrous," she adds sarcastically.

"I was just bored and I found this in the closet and decided to try it on seeing as every form of entertainment has been removed from me here. I like vintage fashion," she adds by way of explanation. She doesn't like the idea of him imagining her as the kind of desperate loser who spends her time secretly trying on wedding dresses when there's no wedding in sight.

She starts unpinning the veil and looks at him. "Was there something you wanted or are you here to torment me with some fresh hell?" She feels quite self sufficient right now because she had her second cigarette from last night at 10 this morning and its now 2pm and there's no sign of cravings as yet.

Just the action of her unpinning the veil is doing things to him because then he's thinking about her taking off her dress and that train of thought it torturous. He will definitely be continuing this later.

He clears his throat. "I have to go out and I'll be back around 4pm. Do you need to use the bathroom or can you wait?"

"I'm fine," she answers dismissively, folding the veil and tucking it carefully back into the box.

"Good," he replies, stepping towards the door. "I'll be back in time this evening to break in the marital bed," he adds smugly.

She glares back at him in astonishment, "Not bloody likely," she splutters, but he has already closed the door behind him and is half way down the hallway.

* * *

He checks in on her at 4.30 and escorts her to the bathroom.

She doesn't see him again till after 9 when turns up with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

She eyes him warily and the whiskey longingly. Alcohol is another of her many addictions.

"You want one of these?" he asks.

She nods her head. He pours her a glass and she downs it quickly, then refills her glass again and drinks a second glass just as fast. She refills a third glass and starts sipping. He's only on his second glass.

"Is that dress from the cupboard too?" he questions, gesturing towards her skimpy light green shift dress. He likes the fact the fact its incredibly short, leaving almost all of her legs on display.

She nods.

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes.

"So do you want to know how the rest of your family are doing?" he asks.

Maybe he's trying not to be such an asshole as normal. Maybe he's going to try and be polite for once.

She nods her head. "Yes."

"I took your Dad his medication this morning and he took one of the pills in front of me," he tells her. "He seems in pretty good spirits," he adds.

She smiles back at him, pleased. "Thanks for finding his pills. He has to take them every day."

"Your Mums fine and both your brothers are doing ok but I think they're a bit bored here," he muses.

"Tell me about it," she rolls her eyes. "This place makes one of Mum's interminable garden parties seem like an amusement park."

"Yeah," he says. "I guess its not that much fun for you guys being stuck here with nothing to do."

He withdraws a cigarette from his pocket and twirls it around in his hands in a deliberate way. She's starting to feel slightly drunk, a familiar sensation that's making her feel pleasantly relaxed.

He's still talking about something - amusement parks in America - last time she heard him but she's stopped listening to what he's saying and her gaze is fixed on the cigarette. She's been craving a smoke again for a couple of hours and the alcohol has loosened her resolve not to give in to him again.

"I want that cigarette," she blurts out, interrupting him.

He smirks, then walks over to her. "You know the deal Princess. You can have it but you have to earn it. On your back."

She still fixated on the cigarette and when he opens his palm she fairly grabs it from his grasp. She'll get him back for that comment but her first objective is a smoke. She'll deal with him later.

He takes a lighter out of his pocket and offers it to her.

She lights it up and sucks in a long drag and then leans back in her seat and her head tilts up to let out a smoke filled breath.

She savours the familiar rush the smoke provides, then takes another drag and regards the American sitting opposite her on a wooden chair.

God he's such an evil shit. He's known her for less than two days and he's already mapped out all her weaknesses and has no qualms about exploiting them to get what he wants from her. She's not stupid. She knows the alcohol's probably all part of his plan too to loosen her up. But knowing what he's doing doesn't stop her from craving the booze and the cigarettes when he waves them in front of her and taunts her with them. And then there's also the fact that he's dangerously good looking and admittedly a very good fuck.

"My father always told me how noble our Army was and how we should be grateful for their sacrifice. Personally I would be grateful to our enemies if they would take it upon themselves to shoot you in combat. That would be a sacrifice I could agree with. But I suppose I won't get that lucky."

He actually snorts out a laugh at her comment. "Yeah you're not gonna get that lucky, unfortunately."

He waits impatiently until she's finished her cigarette and then he looks at her.

"Go and put that dress on," he orders her.

"What dress?" she frowns.

"The wedding dress."

She raises her eyebrows. "Seriously, that does it for you? The wedding dress?"

He shrugs. "Apparently so." He's as confused by this as she is. But yes seeing her in that dress does things to him. And thinking of her taking it off is even worse.

She takes a breath and stands up. The drinks going to her head a bit and she's a little unsteady on her feet. She moves to the cupboard and stands on tippy toes to remove the box from the top shelf. She places the box on the bed and there's a rustle of fabric as she removes the dress and veil.

She turns away from him to remove her dress and pull the dress on, then zips up the back.

She turns back to look at him, waiting. The alcohol is buzzing in her veins because right now she feels more anticipation than resentment over whatever he's going to make her do next.

"Put the veil on too," he tells her. In whatever twisted kind of fantasy he has going on in his head, the veil is definitely involved.

She lifts the veil up and places it on her head, securing it in place with the pins attached to it.

"Now come over here Princess," he commands.

She walks over to him and stands in front of him. He rises to meet her.

He pushes her hair back from her face and adjusts the veil so its behind her face.

"I want you to say Jasper," he tells her.

"Why?" she asks, looking back at him, eyes wide in confusion.

"Because its my name," he replies.

She steps back from him and looks at him, frowning "But Jasper's a blue blooded English aristocrats name and you're American and American parents normally call their children stupid names like they're not even trying to find a proper name. Like Ty or Blade or Chuck or something totally ridiculous."

The alcohol is making her forget how much she's supposed to hate him, and now she's just curious about him.

Granted she's completely infuriating but he also has to admit he does also find her kind of amusing. "That's my name," he repeats.

"Where are you from in America?" she questions.

"Las Vegas."

"Oh. Have you ever been accidentally married by an Elvis impersonator then?" she wrinkles her nose curiously.

"No and you know that's not the only thing you can do in Las Vegas, Princess," he rolls his eyes.

"Yes. You can also lose a lot of money there if you're drunk enough," Eleanor agrees. "Or sleep with a showgirl who looks like a woman but is actually a man. Or you could-"

"Can we get back to the business at hand here," he interrupts her because he's afraid to hear where she's going next with her ideas of what happens in Vegas.

She's not going to give him the satisfaction of doing what he wants that easily. "I want you to get me some drugs - some weed or coke. If you do that then I'll say your name," she issues her terms as a royal degree.

He looks back at her in exasperation, "I'm not your drug dealer and I can't just procure you illicit substances on demand Princess."

"Then I'm not calling you anything except an oversexed asshole, which is what you are," she replies back huffily.

He smirks, he actually has to agree with her on that. "Fine. I'll let you see your Dad or one of your brothers tomorrow provided you say my name."

She takes a moment to consider his offer. 'I want to see Robbie," she decides eventually.

"I can't take you tomorrow morning because I'm on duty but I'll take you to see him tomorrow evening."

"Very well then," she replies, completing their business negotiations. "Jas-pah."

He likes the way it rolls off her lips in an elegant rasp.

He leans into her and starts kissing her. "You look so beautiful," he breathes into her ear as his hands enfold her waist. Normally he would keep his thoughts to himself but the whiskey has loosened him up a little too.

He almost catches her smiling at him, but she doesn't reply.

His hands shift to her hair and he starts unpinning her veil until it falls to the floor. Then his hands are sliding down the back of her dress to unzip it and pull it off her. He shifts it off her shoulders and she obediently steps out of the dress, leaving her in just her underwear.

He pulls her to him and picks her up and carries her over the bed, then lays her down beside him.

"Say my name, baby," he demands, pulling her into him so she's pressed against him.

"Jas-pah," she replies back. Her lips curves into a smile like she still finds it mildly amusing.

He kisses her again, and his hands move to strip off her underwear. The next thing she knows his hands and lips are everywhere all over her. The alcohols still affecting her and she doesn't have the self control to muster a decent attempt to pretend she doesn't like what he's doing to her here.

He pulls her on top of him and his hands shift her in place so that slides onto his erection and sinks down into him, moaning. She starts rocking backwards and forwards on him, her hair falling like a curtain on his face.

After a minute he flips her over.

Now he's in control and he moves on top of her in slow, measured thrusts as she sinks her fingernails into his shoulders, desperate for more.

His life in the army has hardened his physique and given him the endurance of an athlete and he's using it to drive her crazy by continuing to pound into her for an age. Now he's moving harder and faster inside her and both of their bodies are now syncing in a series of desperate shuddering movements.

She's gasping for air on the wave of ecstacy, eyes shut tight when he looks down at her. "Say. My. Name," he commands again, between panting breaths.

"Jas-pah," she breaths. "Jass-paaah," she moans again, her fingers digging into his lower back to pull him as far inside her as he can go.

He can't hold it in any more and he comes hard and fast inside her, totally spent.

He looks at her as the last waves of orgasm wash over them. She has her eyes closed and is murmuring little noises of pleasure at the back of her throat as he moves inside her while her hips undulate about his to draw out the last ripples of ecstasy. Inside she feels hot and wet, soaked by him.

His body presses down on hers and he can feel the soft flesh of her nipples against his chest.

He leans down and smooths her hair back from her forehead. "Eleanor," he whispers back into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She was supposed to be a quick fuck - a relief for his sex starved military lifestyle. Yesterday she was just a spoilt Princess who deserved to be put in her place. And it was all too convenient that he was able to do that while at the same time using her body for his pleasure.

But today she almost became a real person to him - first seeing how much she cared for her father and now lying here she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, now she's temporarily forgotten she's supposed to hate him and has abandoned herself to pleasure.

He's had her once, twice now and it hasn't lessened his desire for her. In fact the opposite has happened and he wants her again and again and again. It's like she's gotten into his veins like the crack cocaine she demanded from him. The Princess has a lot of addictions but now she feels like an addiction to him, heady and overpowering.


	6. Chapter 6

Not sure everyone has read the previous chapter? If not please do that first. Now moving on to the next chapter. You're gonna hate me...

* * *

Eleanor sees her guard - Jasper - she knows his name is now, around 9.30am the next day. She has breakfast and uses the bathroom.

Then she's shut up in her room once again.

The next time she sees him is three hours later when he enters the room with her lunch.

She's standing at the window silently and she doesn't turn or acknowledge him.

"I brought you some lunch," he announces. "And a glass of water."

She still doesn't say anything.

"You know it would be polite to actually acknowledge my presence here, even though I'm a mere mortal and you're the Princess," Jasper tells her.

Eleanor is still staring out the window in a daze. "What time are we visiting Robbie tonight?," she asks, eventually.

Jasper swallows and takes a step towards her. "Yeah I haven't been able to arrange that. It's too dangerous. His guard's a light sleeper and there's too much of a risk he would wake while we were there. I can take you to visit Prince Liam instead," he offers.

"No, I want to visit Robbie. That's what we agreed," Eleanor's voice is slow and deliberate.

"I can't take you to him," Jasper's voice has something in it that sounds like genuine regret. "I'm sorry."

"You know what I think," Eleanor starts, and her voice trembles. She turns around and he sees that there are tears streaming down her face. "I think the reason you can't take me to him is because he's dead, and so is my father," her voice is rising sharply and she can't control herself. "And you and your lot killed him."

Jasper stares at her, shocked.

Eleanor pushes the hair off her face and swipes an arm over her face to blot her tears.

"I saw my Dad and Robbie being escorted out into the woods this morning by three soldiers with rifles," her chest heaves and she can feel herself starting to get hysterical. "I bet you thought I didn't see anything but I saw it from my window and I heard the shots. Four shots," she adds with emphasis. She remembers counting them with a horrible sense of dread.

She turns towards the table for support and stumbles, leaning against it blindly. "That was two hours ago and they haven't come back since," she voice breaks. She has spent all this time hoping she's wrong, praying she will see their figures emerging from the woods. But they haven't come back.

He's watching her carefully, like she's some kind of wild animal who's likely to attack at any time. He's standing right opposite her but he's not denying anything, and this knowledge makes her stomach drop to the floor.

"And now you say you can't take me to Robbie tonight," she repeats his words, glaring at him venomously. "The reason you can't take me to him is because Robert's dead and you killed him," she screams at him, pointing her finger accusingly.

"Eleanor, you have to keep your voice down," Jasper replies. His voice is urgent and he moves swiftly towards her and grabs her hands.

But again, he doesn't deny that what she says is true.

"You must think I'm stupid," she's still screaming at the top of her voice. "You think you can use me, you can just fuck me when you please and all the while you're plotting to kill my Dad and my brother," he has her in his arms but she is wildly flailing against his, half sagging under his arms because she's too distraight to be able to stand properly now but she's still trying to pummel his chest with her fists and trying to inflict as much damage as possible.

"Don't touch me," she screams. "Don't you touch me," she tries to shove his hands away from her. "Don't touch-"

He stands behind her and his hand clamps over her mouth and his arms tighten around her body pulling her into his chest. Then his arms move from her mouth to her neck and he is squeezing tight against her throat.

"Jas-pah," she pants. "Jas-pah, you're hurting me." Her eyes fill with fresh tears.

She can't see his face but he makes no sound to acknowledge he's heard her.

"I can't - breathe," she protests, but his hands are still tight on her neck, pressing into her flesh. She tries to gasp for air but her lungs can't take enough in.

She starts to feel dizzy after a moment. Her last thought is that he's killed her father and her brother and now he's killing her and then everything goes black as she falls to the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Jasper can identify when exactly everything became very fucked up, very fast. At 12.30 he heard about it but it must have happened around 2 hours earlier.

He's been watching carefully every thing the soldiers say and do. He has to be careful, he has to be discrete, because he's not one of them, though they don't know it.

He's been in England now for five and half months. He's been sent over under cover, backstopped up to his eyeballs with Westpoint qualifications and references, at work for the CIA as Captain Jasper Ford. The CIA has been getting intel that something sinister is up in the British Military. Specifically with charismatic military tactician General Sir Anthony Wilford who is in charge of the British Army and his able bodied but immoral advisor Richard Mills.

As the economy nosedives parliamentary power has waned, while the military has gone from strength to strength. Last year, their powers were increased in new anti-terror legislation. This year, violent clashes between protestors and the Police and military have seen the Army given the power to detain and seize individuals under the flimsiest of pretexts.

The newly formed covert relationship between the General and the far right of the Conservative Party has aroused the suspicion of the CIA, who wants to keep an eye on what's happening under the radar across the pond.

It's been four days since what Jasper's pretty sure was the first stage of a coup began when the Army rolled into the Palace to take the Royal family hostage. Of course the family were fed the first lie in a web of lies, which was that they were being removed for their own protection.

Yesterday he's heard through CIA sources that the Prime Minister was assassinated and his Cabinet has been overthrown. Normally the military would protect both the Royal Family and the government from the threat of violence, but when the threat comes from within, from the very organisation who is charged with protecting the institutions of government, authority can crumble in a matter of hours.

None of this has reached the media. It was reported this morning that protestors demonstrating against job losses rioted in London and stormed the Palace. There is even camera footage of protestors gathered outside the Palace with plaquards, obviously a set up by the military to stage whatever scene they want the public to see. Jasper would be very surprised if the next lie that's told isn't that the protestors have murdered the King and his family. Perhaps they will stage a similar scene at Parliament and claim this is how the Prime Minister has been killed.

Everything is moving so quickly, in so many different directions that its difficult to form a clear picture of what's happening. All he can focus on is what's happening here in these four walls, and try to predict and prepare for their next move.

He knows the group of soldiers he's with have been specifically hand picked because they don't have allegiance to the Royal family, hell most of them probably don't even have any morals. They were all intensively questioned a week ago, without any warning of why they were being interviewed or any indication about their future mission. Jasper was mildly surprised they would let an American in so easily into this inner circle, but perhaps it is precisely because he is an American that they decided he was suited to the role. After all they overthrew the British and their Royal Family over 300 years ago, and haven't looked back since.

Jasper sits down on the bed, and runs a hand through his hair, still waiting.

The CIA had advised him, based on their intelligence, that if the King were deposed, he was likely to escape with his life and be cast into exile abroad. They had assumed - wrongly - it turned out that they would get some warning if this theoretical threat to the Royal Family that the coup posed became a real threat to their lives. Either from chatter or briefings in this house or intelligence from CIA operatives in British military HQ. But the General is playing his cards closer to his chest than the Americans have anticipated because there was no warning. Only, Jasper can assume, a phone call. One order swiftly carried out.

This morning he'd been on the morning guard duty shift outside the house from 3-9am. After that he'd visited the Princess then taken the opportunity for a nap for a couple of hours to recover the sleep he'd missed out on. And while he'd been sleeping evidently that order to kill the King and the Prince had come through.

If he'd known about it, he would have phoned through to HQ and awaited their instructions. He'd been shocked when his fellow soldiers returned from the woods, casually talking about the execution as they sat at the lunch table, but had managed to successfully cover his disgust.

So now, it's too late. He can't undo what's been done. As soon as he found out, he'd conveyed this information to his boss and requested he advise him as soon as possible of his next course of action.

His gaze wanders over to the bed where he laid the Princess down only a few minutes ago. She's still out cold and should be for another five or ten minutes.

He's already decided he's going to sedate her as soon as she comes round, and keep her sedated until he's had further instructions. He has the means - a small white but very effective pill in his pocket - and he certainly has the motive. Screaming blue bloody murder like she was ten minutes ago is a surefire way for her to get herself taken out into the woods and shot - exactly like her father and brother were. He's surprised no one came in the first time she did that. Perhaps they were lucky enough to have the soldiers at the other end of the house or outside. But he cannot afford to take the chance of having her do that again.

He knows that screwing the Princess was unprofessional. But professionally hes been trained to manipulate people to get what he wants and to be discreet about it. He saw an opportunity to take something he wanted and he took it.

Only now its made everything far more complicated than it should have been. Because he's already advised his boss that there is now an extreme threat to the lives of the remaining members of the Royal Family and they need to activate a plan to get them out of this house as soon as possible.

He's waiting, and hoping that his orders come through quickly and confirm their removal from the house with assistance.

But now he's replaying the scene in the woods from earlier today - a scene that he never saw but can't help but imagine. Only this time its not the King and Prince of Wales who are shot, but the Princess and her twin and their mother.

The whole scenario leaves him both chill with horror and burning with fiery anger and somehow all of these emotions centre on the girl who lies unconscious right next to him.

He is a spy, and he'll wait for his orders. He'll do what he's told.

But he can't stop the voice in his head from whispering - _what if his orders come through too late, or never at all. What about this girl then?_


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks so much for your reviews. Yip its been a shocking few chapters!

* * *

Apparently his boss doesn't understand the meaning of the word urgent because he takes all of six bloody hours to come back with a reply to his request for assistance to attempt to remove the rest of the Royal family from their present location.

When he finally gets the reply he stares at it for several seconds ,then swears out loud.

He wonders, not for the first time, what the fuck is going on at HQ and whose agendas are running the show this week. He was sent over here on the understanding that he was to monitor the situation. It was always implied that he was here both for intelligence and, if necessary, to protect the safety of the Royal family, if worst came to worst, which it very clearly is right now - death usually being the worst case scenario. And certainly a less than optimal outcome.

So why the fuck did they bother to send him over here, if when a threat to the Royal family eventuates, they then sit on their asses for several hours and then reply back to tell him to, 'continue to monitor situation. No further action to be taken.'

Of course he knows exactly what this means. If the Army takes it upon themselves to murder the three remaining members of the Royal family, which they very well may do, he is to do absolutely nothing to stop them. All he needs is enough details of what happened to fill a double sided incident brief for his boss, post mortem. which will be scrutinised carefully and then shredded in the name of plausible deniability and all evidence that the CIA knew anything about the plan before it was executed will be erased.

He checks in on the Princess twice again that afternoon, before dinner at 6.30. He has to keep an eye on what his fellow soldiers are up to, but he keeps his own conversation to a minimum.

After dinner, some of the soldiers start drinking as usual, and he has two cans of beer. He has to pace himself, because in the back of his head he's still thinking about the possibility of seeing some action tonight.

After an hour he goes and sits outside on the doorstep, alone. He's killed men himself, seven to be precise, but they were all scumbags and fully deserved whatever he dished out. They were not defenceless civilians. And there's only so much of the company of cold blooded killers he can stand before he's had as much as he can stomach.

After a few minutes, one of younger soldiers, who's been downing drinks with alarming speed, half walks and half stumbles over to him.

"You've had a fair few tonight," Jasper comments, taking a drag from a cigarette. He rarely smokes, but tonight his nerves are on edge and its something to help pass the time at least.

The soldier, whose name Jasper couldn't initially recall but who he now remembers is called McDonald, shrugs off his comment and rests an arm against the doorframe.

"You've been fucking the Princess," he slurs accusingly.

Jasper raises his eyebrows at him. "The only thing fucked around here is you," he lies smoothly. "How many pints have you had exactly?"

McDonald ignores his question and eyeballs him drunkenly. "I heard you banging her last night and the night before that. My room's next door."

Jasper gets up from the doorstep and stubs out his cigarette. "Have you met the Princess?" he questions him, slowly. "She's quite a piece of work. Swears like a sailor and has a temper to boot. Not to mention she's not my type at all, too scrawny. I prefer a little meat on the bones." Another lie.

"I know what I heard," McDonald replies back stubbornly. "How come you get to shag the Princess? I want to fuck her."

McDonald must be in his mid 20s but his exclamation sounds like a whining toddler.

And even though he's acting like a petulant child, Jasper's temper flares.

"No one's fucking the Princess," he steps in closer to the other soldier, and looks down on him intimidatingly. No one except him that is.

"And if you so much as touch her, Private," he adds, reminding him of his inferior rank, "I'll make sure you're never capable of fucking anyone ever again. If indeed you're can walk at all. Got that?" he questions, threateningly, and shoves him roughly.

With that he turns around and strides off into the house, simmering.

At eight o'clock, he and two other soldiers get tapped on their shoulders and told to report to the study right now. His sense of foreboding builds as he heads to the room and sits down.

The briefing is short and to the point. Tomorrow morning at 8am they are to escort Princess Eleanor and Prince Liam to the woods for morning exercise.

Everyone has heard what happened to King Simon and Prince Robert in the woods yesterday morning and they all have a fairly clear idea of what morning exercise means, though nobody says it out loud.

The briefing is over within a few minutes and there is no opportunity for questions. They are dismissed.

In the Princesses' room, Jasper shuts the door and rests against it silently, watching the girl on the bed.

He takes out his phone and calls in his boss to update him on the briefing. But he's already shown his hand and the instructions remain that he's to take no action to stop the assassination. He argues with him, as loud and long as he dares, but his boss won't budge on this.

Eventually the conversation ends and he throws his phone down in frustration and stares at the Princess. He can't help but be drawn to stand beside her.

He doesn't know how long he's been standing there but eventually she begins to stir. The sedative is finally starting to wear off.

He can see something flicker across her face as she shifts in her sleep.

He takes another of his pills and moves over the table to pour a glass of water, then dissolves the tablet in a little water.

He sits down on the bed and lifts her head into his lap.

He waits, giving her a few moments to wake a little more, then tilts her head up and moves the glass to her lips.

She swallows it obediently, still not conscious enough to know where she is, what she's doing or who she's resting against.

He puts the glass down.

Up close he can see the marks from his fingers forming into bruises on her neck. He moves to shift her dress and he sees there are dark marks on her collarbone too and he feels a sudden stab of guilt that he did this. Against his hands he can feel the pulse at the base of her neck thrum a gentle but steady rhythm. She mutters something inaudible at his touch.

The Princess looks as fragile as glass, all delicate pretty features and slender limbs.

But he knows that inside her she has so much fire and life. The Princess is undoubtedly infuriating and inflammatory and self- destructive, but she's very definitely alive. He thinks of last night - her fingernails digging into his skin, her heart beating against his chest, her gasping for breath against his mouth when he was inside of her.

It's hard to imagine all that fire and beauty extinguished so young.

But, even if he tried, could he stop them? Could he, alone, take on the British military in their own land, with no support from his own superiors. Could he do that or is he crazy for even contemplating it?


	9. Chapter 9

Once he's made his decision he sits down to work out a plan.

At 11.30 everyone else has gone to bed and his last stop is to visit two of his fellow soldiers that evening. He offers both of them a beer. He's helpfully cracked the lid open, but unhelpfully for them slipped a strong sedative inside.

The two of them are guarding the entrance to the house and the hallway until 3am.

He gives it another 45 minutes, checks both the guards are out cold and then he makes his move. He's got his gun, and another revolver stashed in his back pocket. He's packed a few belongings in a kit bag, changed into a pair of jeans and t shirt. He silently pads down the hall and opens the door.

The room is dark and there is the soft sound of breathing coming from across the room.

Jasper steps forward and places his hand over mouth of the sleeping form underneath him, then gives him a firm prod with the butt of his gun.

After another prod, Prince Liam awakes. It takes him a moment to adjust to the dim light but when he sees the soldier standing there beside him a mixture of fear and anger crosses his face.

"Shut up," Jasper starts brusquely, seeing that the Prince looks as if he's about to start struggling and trying to talk.

"This morning your brother and father were shot in the woods outside this house by the soldiers in this house. Tomorrow they're planning to take you and your sister out first thing and murder you in the same way."

The Prince's eyes go wide with shock and he's sure he can feel him swear against the palm of his hand.

"I'm trying to get you and your sister out of this house tonight unharmed so that doesn't happen to you. To do that you're going to have to do exactly what I say. And most important of all - you can't make a fucking sound."

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Jasper questions urgently.

Liam hesitates for a second then nods.

"For this to work, you're gonna have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

Liam eyeballs him carefully, then nods.

Jasper removes his hand. "Not a fucking sound," he repeats as a hiss.

"Now get up. You'll have to wait there until I get your sister. Don't turn the light on," he orders sharply.

Jasper moves silently through the hallway, picking his way around the body of the guard who has passed out, and opens the door to the Princesses room.

He is bending down to lift her up, when someone pushes the door open and switches on the light. It's McDonald, looking hungover but deliberate in his intentions.

He stares at Jasper for a moment before exclaiming, "What the hell are you about? Why have you got your kit bag with you?"

He never gets an answer because Jasper takes three steps towards him and punches him square in the face. He grabs his shoulders and forces him to the floor where he punches him twice more. It's happens so fast that the other soldier never stands a chance.

He has a fair idea why McDonald would come into the Princesses room in the dead of night, and that idea swiftly removes any second thoughts he might have about his actions.

Jasper can't afford to have him waking up in an hour or two and raising an alarm in the house - he needs all the headstart the night can provide. He stands above him debating whether to kill him or just sedate him too. His preference is the former but eventually his head wins over his baser instincts and he slips one of the pills into some water and forces the liquid down his throat.

Then he picks up his kit bag once more, grabs the Princess and switches off the light.

He makes his way down the corridor silently then pushes open the door to the Prince's room. He's sitting tensely on the bed, waiting and even though there's only moonlight illuminating the room, the Princes' eyes look suspiciously watery. It's only been a few minutes but he already looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders since he was told that his father and brother have been killed.

Prince Liam looks over his sister carefully, then looks back at Jasper suspiciously. Eleanor's a light sleeper and he doesn't think she's just sleeping at the moment.

"I sedated her," Jasper says, as if that's explanation enough. The reasons why aren't apparent to Prince Liam.

He shoves her body towards her brother. "You'll have to carry her out, I need to be armed in case there's any trouble," he announces in a lowered voice.

Liam looks back at him surprised but complies with his order, holding her carefully against his chest. Thankfully she's not heavy and there is some comfort right now, in the darkest of times, in having his sister in his arms.

Jasper takes the lead and steps out into the corridor as Liam follows silently behind. Jasper quietly unlocks the front door, waits for Liam to step outside carrying Eleanor, then softly closes it behind him.

Jasper's urge is to run, but the Prince won't be able to keep up behind up carrying his sister, so he slows his pace to a brisk walk, impatiently pushing towards the outbuilding where the trucks are stashed. He's already filched the keys for one of the vehicles half an hour ago and he unlocks the door and steps aside as the Prince dumps the Princess into the front seat then slides in beside her.

Jasper gets in and switches the engine on. He cringes as it flares into life with a noisy hum. These old vehicles are not the quietest machines and he just prays the noise is not enough to wake anyone in the house.

He throws the truck into gear and it shudders forward.

Jasper doesn't dare switch on the truck lights just yet so he has to keep his speed slower than he would like until he reaches the farm gate and the road. They bump along the dirt track for a minute and then he switches the lights on, turns onto the seal and puts his foot down.

Beside him the Prince has a protective arm around his unconscious sister, tears in his eyes and he's silently stewing. Liam has so many questions he doesn't know where to start.

When the reach the end of the road and turn onto the next country lane, he comes out with his first question.

"Did you kill my Dad and my brother?," Liam demands.

Jasper shakes his head. "Not me. Some of the other soldiers in the house did that."

"Why?"

Jasper sighs. "It's too long and complicated to explain in detail but basically we think the military is staging a coup to overthrow the government. And the Royal family as another vestige of constitutional authority is also on their hit list," he rattles out an explanation without pausing for breath.

Liam takes a moment to digest the news that his place in the world and the very existence of his family has been turned 180 degrees on its head.

"What about my mother? Will they try and kill her too?", he questions.

Jasper's given this some thought. The orders didn't involve the Queen at all. "I don't think so. Your mother has no legal powers on her own. Any power she does have stems from her marriage to the King and if there is no King she has no function. She doesn't have royal blood like you or your sister so she couldn't inherit the throne."

"She's not in the line of succession," Liam replies, nodding. He looks out at the road for a moment, trying to work out where the hell they are. Against his shoulder his sister's head slips further down his chest.

"Why did you sedate my sister?" Liam asks.

Jasper's mouth quirks slightly. "I prefer her sedated," he drawls in his American accent.

Liam looks across at him sharply. He doesn't know him at all so he can't judge if he's kidding or not. He catches a flicker of a smile leave his face and he guesses he is.

"There are times when I might have to agree with you," Liam agrees, leaning back in his seat. "She can be bloody hard work."

He looks over at the American and they exchange a quick grin.

Liam poses the last question he's had on his mind. "So why are you helping us? Surely you're going to get in trouble for taking us away from the house?"

Jasper shrugs. He's not quite sure himself to be truthful. "Let's just say I had issues with the Army's modus operandi."

"I think we can all agree on that," Liam replies, staring out of the window, as his brows knot together with anger. He's thinking again of his Dad and his brother, left behind somewhere in a country field down the road. Perhaps they'll never get the proper burial they deserve. Perhaps no will ever know what really happened to them.

Silence descends on the truck once again. Jasper puts his foot on the pedal, pushing it as far down as it will go.

The truck rattles on down narrow country lanes as a Prince, a Princess and a spy make their escape into the night.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks for the reviews, I love reading your thoughts and theories about what's happening. Next chapter below._

* * *

Eleanor doesn't wake until they're nearly 200 miles from north Wales where they were taken by the military.

Its 4am and Liam's half asleep himself when he feels his sister start to stir. She shifts against his shoulder and her eyes start to flicker.

"Liam?" she questions. It's quite dark but her twin brother is so familiar to her she can identify him just by touch and smell.

"Yeah. It's ok you're safe with me," his brother assures her.

She rests against her brother for a while, sleepily. Her brain feels tired and she's confused about where they are and what they're doing here.

Eventually she gets up the energy to ask. "Where are we?"

"On the south coast of England," Liam answers.

"I don't understand why we're here," Eleanor starts, yawning. "And why are we in such an old, _dirty_ , noisy vehicle?" This is nothing like the kind of comfortable, expensive car she normally travels in.

"We had to leave the farmhouse. The army was trying to kill us," Liam says in a tight voice.

This makes Eleanor draw herself upright, albeit slowly and stare at her brother.

"I remember they took our family from the Palace," she says slowly. "And we were being held in a house. And I remember seeing them take Robbie and Dad out into the woods and there were shots and I thought they had killed them," she clasps her brother's hand tightly as her voice chokes up.

She remembers a lot of things now. Being shut in a room, with no contact with her family. The smarmy American guard screwing her so she could finally get some cigarettes. And last and most frightening of all, his hands round her neck choking the life out of her.

And yet she's not dead.

"Did they kill Dad and Robbie?" she questions, her voice hitching in her throat.

Liam grasps her hand and squeezes it firmly. "Yes. I'm sorry Lenny. But at least we have each other now and we got out."

He pulls her into him as she lets out a sob.

Tears wrack her body. Holding her tightly, Liam's eyes fill with tears. He needs her comfort as much as she needs his right now.

Eventually Eleanor's sobs stop and she leans back tiredly. She looks out the road trying to work out what's outside them but can't make out the shapes. Then she turns her attention to the other man in the truck who has only been a dark blur to her until now. She studies his profile for a minute and then it dawns on her who he is.

"You," she says accusingly, finally recognising the shadowy form as her guard. "You tried to bloody kill me. What are you doing here?"

Her voice comes out shrill and unsteady.

Liam looks at the American, who told him his name is Jasper, questioningly.

"I wasn't trying to kill you," he replies evenly. "I was trying to shut you up so that the other soldiers wouldn't kill you after you starting screaming down the house about your family being killed."

"He's helping us get away," Liam explains. "It's good of him to help. If they find him he'll be in a lot of trouble," he adds. He knows enough to know that if they're caught he and his sister may not be the only ones who won't escape with their lives.

Eleanor's still staring at him with a mixture of accusation and shock. She remembers how he cynically manipulated her into sex. She remembers the feel of his hands on her neck, strangling her. She's also not convinced he had nothing to do with her father and her brother's death - if he didn't fire the shots himself he must have at least known it was planned and done nothing to help them. And that makes him culpable in her eyes.

She knows she has trust issues, but everything this man has done makes her wary of him. If she has to pretend she can trust him for a few hours for the sake of her brother she can do it, but she's not willing going to extend the olive branch any further than hostile silence.

Eleanor turns her head away and shifts closer to her brother, resting her head back against his shoulder. "I'm thirsty," she mumbles into Liam's shirt.

Liam's too caught up in his own worries and sorrows, and he doesn't reply.

They drive on, hugging the coastal road, twisting and turning in the dark.

The American's phone rings and he takes the call, listening in silence and only muttering the word yes three times during the conversation.

A while later, their driver unexpectedly pulls over into a rest area by the beach.

"Why have we stopped?" Liam questions, sounding confused.

Jasper ignores the question. "Get out of the truck," he orders.

Liam clambers out and extends a hand to his sister who follows more slowly, leaning against her brother to steady her.

The stand silently by the vehicle, unsure of what's happening now.

"What are you doing?" Liam asks again, stepping closer to his sister. Right now, he's starting to feel uncomfortable about whatever is going on.

"Now I'm going to kill you both," Jasper announces.

Too late, Liam realises he's put his trust in the wrong man.

Beside him, his sister Eleanor is staring at the American, frozen to the spot in terror.


	11. Chapter 11

"Now I'm going to kill you both," Jasper announces.

Two sets of eyes stare back at him in terror.

"Well for the purposes of the British military anyway," he amends. "So it looks like you're dead as far as they're concerned. I won't actually be shooting you."

"You are such a motherfucker," Eleanor storms, narrowing her eyes as she glares at him. He's just given both her and her brother a heart attack when it could have easily been avoided had he bothered to explain himself properly in the first place.

Jasper smirks. He actually likes her turn of phrase.

"Strip off, both of you," he orders next.

Eleanor blinks. She already knew he was an oversexed asshole but if he's thinking of some kind of weird threesome involving her brother, he is truly perverted.

They both protest at the same time. "I'm not doing any such thing," Eleanor announces. "I prefer to keep my clothes on," Liam replies, offended.

Jasper rolls his eyes. They both sound so prim and proper and so very English. Even the wild child Princess has now found some newly discovered maidenly modesty totally at odds with her tabloid exploits.

"You can hold on to your knickers both of you. If I stage it so it looks as if I've shot you in the truck, the logical place to dump your bodies is in the sea. So then having items of your clothing washed up on shore would be confirmation that you're dead. Got it?" he questions.

"Oh," they both reply simultaneously.

"So now get your kit off," he orders. "You can keep your underwear on."

Liam promptly starts stripping off his clothes until he's left in his boxers. Eleanor hesitates for a moment, and then sighs while giving him telling glare, and hikes up her dress and pulls it off over her head, leaving her standing there in her bra and knickers.

Jasper's gaze is drawn to the Princess, lingering on her scantily clad form a little too long and too obviously.

"I would appreciate your not using this as an opportunity to perv at my sister," Liam announces primly, as he notes the direction of Jasper's gaze.

Jasper turns his attention back to Liam and manages to wipe the smirk off his face, but doesn't reply. Then he takes their clothes and disappears off towards the shoreline and comes back ten minutes later.

'I also require a sample of the Royal blood line," Jasper informs them on his return.

"What the hell does that mean?" Liam questions, sounding confused.

Eleanor's already cottoned on to his meaning. "It means he wants some of our blood to leave it behind at the murder scene. So if they test it it comes back as our DNA."

Jasper nods. "Correct. Sooner or later, and I expect it will happen within a day or two, someone will report this abandoned vehicle to the Police who will then inform the Army who will collect it and discover from the license plate it is the same vehicle taken from where the Royal family were being held. If there are traces of your blood in this vehicle the most obvious conclusion is that you are dead or injured."

Jasper reaches into the truck to extract a knife, a cup and first aid kit then continues, "unfortunately this is going to hurt. But it is preferable to being dead," he offers.

Liam looks at the knife apprehensively as Jasper approaches.

"Where would you like me to take your blood from?" Jasper asks.

"Nowhere would me my preference," Liam answers honestly. "But if you have to you can take it from my leg," he replies, indicating towards his thigh.

Jasper bends forward and slices cleanly into his thigh.

"Son of a bitch," Liam bursts out with angrily as the knife cuts into his flesh.

Jasper places the cup against his skin to collect the blood as it seeps out of the wound. He lets the wound drain for a minute or two then Eleanor steps forward. She's been fossicking through the first aid kit. She extracts a cotton pad, swabs it with disinfectant and cleans his wound then extracts a large bandage and uses it to bind his wound, winding it firmly around his leg.

"You ok bro?" she asks, her face worried.

Liam's still wincing from the pain but he manages a strained smile back at her. "I'll live."

Jasper moves toward the truck and comes back with an empty cup. He takes a bottle of water, rinses out the mug and then grabs some disinfectant from the first aid kit and pours it over the knife.

"You're next Princess," he says, and he actually looks like he's reluctant to do this to her. "This is gonna scar I'm afraid and hurt like a bitch for a little while. Where do you want it?"

Eleanor likes to wear skimpy outfits that show a lot of flesh and she's already decided where it will have to go so as not to cause fashion chaos with her wardbrobe. "On my back. About half way down," she indicates where it can go.

Jasper steps forward and she can feel his fingers brush over her skin carefully. "Here?" he questions.

She nods and braces herself.

He takes the knife and cuts a deep track through her skin which hurts like hell. She doesn't make a sound except for the sharp intake of breath when the knife makes contact with her skin.

She can feel the cup pressed against her skin, and she doesn't even realise it until he lifts the mug but her hand is now clutching the American's other hand tightly, and her palms feel damp when she lets his hand go.

Next he takes out the disinfectant and wipes carefully around the wound, then presses a bandage against her back fixes it in place. His hands feel warm and comforting against her skin which now feels icy cold.

"You did great," he tells her, talking into her ear in a hushed voice. He'd expected tears or tantrums but she'd handled it better than her brother.

Jasper walks back to the truck with the mugs and comes back a few minutes later.

"What now?" Liam questions, looking towards Jasper.

"We're ditching the truck. Now follow me," he orders them.

The twins follow behind him in the night, heading for a row of cars parked down from them and across the road.

"Have you ever considered some type of personal communication course?" Liam suggests to Jasper from behind as they keep walking.

"What's wrong with the way I communicate?" Jasper demands, knotting his eyebrows together.

"Well firstly you told us you were going to kill us when you only wanted to make it look as if we've been killed. And from our end there's quite a difference - believe me. Then you order us to strip off with no explanation. And then I had no idea what you meant about wanting our blood, you were so obscure. It's like you need your own personal interpreter to ensure you don't scare the hell out of whoever you're talking to," Liam states.

"God yes," Eleanor adds in agreement, nodding.

"I like my style of communication," Jasper replies back, defensively. "It's to the point."

"More like communication at gunpoint," Eleanor replies back, disagreeing.

"That's the most effective kind," Jasper replies back shortly.

Eleanor shakes her head violently behind him, and Liam looks over at her, smiling in agreement.

They've reached a late model BMW. Jasper walks around the car the stops by the opposite side.

They can see him doing something to the door.

"Are we stealing this car?," Liam questions. He's never actually done anything outside the law before and he's a little worried by the idea.

"I prefer to say we are temporarily relocating the car," Jasper replies, smirking, as he opens the door and starts fiddling with the ignition.

"Definitely stealing," Eleanor replies, confirming Liam's thoughts.

A minute later Jasper leans over and unlocks one of the doors. Liam slides in and settles into the back seat, then Eleanor clambers in beside him, still wearing next to nothing.

"You know you might give my sister your T shirt. That's what a gentleman would do," Liam pipes up, chiding him from the back seat.

"I think we've already established that he's no gentleman," Eleanor rolls her eyes. "I mean he's an American for Christ's sakes," she adds as if the idea of a gentleman who is American is some kind of oxymoron.

"There I have to agree with the Princess, though I rarely do. I've claimed to be a lot of things, but a gentleman's not one of them," Jasper replies.

He doesn't just prefer the Princess sedated, he prefers her in her underwear, or indeed nothing at all.

Jasper continues, "So now, both of you are supposedly deceased and I'm now going to require you to shut up. For the dead you are both surprisingly argumentative and its getting on my nerves here," he says revving up the engine and stepping on the accelerator.

The car pulls away into the night, heading for the unknown.

* * *

 _Yeah you got it, Jasper was just staging their deaths._

 _Thanks to the person who called me an 'evil genius' that's the best compliment ever! I will return to my evil lair to contemplate what more evil mischief I shall get up to next ..._


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you for all your reviews. It makes it more fun to write it when you let me know what you think about things and where you think the story's heading_

 _I'm going on holiday from tomorrow for a week so I probably won't be able to update it for a while now, unless I manage to find a computer with internet access in which case I may be able to post 1 chapter sometime_

* * *

Jasper pushes the pedal down low as they speed through southern England, through the Channel tunnel and into northern France where dawn is starting to break.

By 8am he has to pull over for petrol and the twins both need to use the bathroom.

It would be entirely too weird, and would therefore arouse attention, for them to go out in public in their underwear so he stops at a shop and purchases a pair of shorts and T shirt for Liam and a sun dress for Eleanor. He buys them both sunglasses and hats - a cap for Liam and a sunhat for Eleanor because he doesn't need them being recognised right now. Then he can refill the car and they can use the bathroom.

He tells them they can grab something to eat there. He won't let them go in together because as a double act they are more recognisable. Liam comes out with a croissant and then Eleanor heads in. After a couple of minutes he's getting impatient and goes inside. She's dithering about still looking at different options but they need to get back on the road and as far away from England as fast as possible. He approaches the counter and orders two filled baguettes and a coffee for himself.

When his order comes back, she's now standing at the counter asking about the menu in fluent French. Jasper taps her on the shoulder and shoves a sandwhich towards her.

"There's your breakfast," he tells her. "Let's go," he orders.

She looks back at him, frowning, as she examines the contents of the sandwich. "But I don't even like beef," she protests. At the palace everything is specially prepared so that she doesn't have to eat anything she doesn't like.

Jasper's expression is far from sympathetic. "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn," he replies, echoing the famous words of Rhett Butler.

He grabs her arm and whirls her in a quick turn. "We just need to get the hell out of here right now and head east as fast as we can," he tells her, pushing her towards the door.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't manhandle me in such a presumptuous manner," Eleanor tells him haughtily. "Or order me around so arrogantly."

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't multiply the chances of you and your brother getting a bullet to your brain from the British military by frittering away your time debating sandwich choices," Jasper replies in a low growl, as he propels her towards the car.

Eleanor opens her mouth, then shuts it again. When he puts it like that its hard to think of a decent comeback. Maybe she'll try and be more selective with her complaints in the future.

He opens the door and gives her a push inside, then slams the door.

They drive on for another hour. Then Jasper, who's usual status quo seems to be sullen silence, decides to strike up a conversation with Liam.

"Can you drive Prince?"

"Sure," Liam replies. "Mostly I've driven convertibles but I can drive most things. Eleanor doesn't drive at all," he says helpfully, adding in information no one asked for.

"Yes I do," Eleanor pipes up from the back seat.

"Yeah, sure," Liam corrects, "but mostly into things so that doesn't count. And you don't even have a license so its illegal for you to drive anywhere anyway."

"I do not drive into things," Eleanor protests hotly.

"Umm, the floral display stand at Ascot would beg to differ, as would Beck's Aston Martin," Liam argues.

"It was dark so I couldn't see Beck's car was there at all," Eleanor tells him, rolling her eyes. Both her brother's have teased her about this about least a hundred times before. "And Ashok was supposed to be helping me navigate my way into the VIP area at Ascot. I can't help it if he's a terrible navigator. And there were displays over literally every inch of the grounds. It was impossible to avoid running into _something_."

"Yeah much as I'm enjoying this flashback into the first world problems involved in the lifestyles of the rich and famous I'm going to have to interrupt your discussion," Jasper announces, pulling over into a rest area.

"You can take the wheel," he orders Liam. "Keep heading east. I need to get some rest to keep driving this evening. If you need to stop for petrol make sure you put on your hat and sunglasses and don't go inside together," he instructs them both.

He gets out of the drivers side door and Liam exits the passenger side and they swap over.

Jasper slides into the passenger's seat and sits back against the seat.

"Are you ever going to tell us what your plan is here?" Liam questions. He's already asked this question once before and was effectively stone walled.

"It's best for everyone if I only tell you things on a need to know basis. And as yet you don't need to know that," Jasper replies. "You only need to know we're heading east."

They've only known him a matter of days, but he's already proving to be infuriatingly elusive about every damn thing.

Jasper slouches back into the seat pulling a pair of sunglasses over his face for shade. He just hopes the two of them can shut up for the few minutes its going to take to get to sleep. But he doubts he will get that lucky.

* * *

Jasper does manage to ignore the twins irritating double act banter and get a couple of hours of sleep. When he wakes his stomach is starting to rumble hungrily and going by the signs they are now in Germany.

He looks over to Liam doing a steady 80 miles an hour on the smooth, clear roads of the autobahn.

He checks the back mirror and the Princess has her face turned away from them and is staring out the window.

In the back seat, under the sombre grey of German skies, the enormity of their situation has just fully hit Eleanor.

Within the space of a day, she's lost the two people she loves most in the world. She's homeless, motherless as well as fatherless, and everything about the life she knew has vanished without a trace. She doesn't know when she will be able to go back to England, if ever.

And in the front seat are the two men she'll have to trust with her life. One of whom she would follow to the ends of the earth if she had to, and the other who she wouldn't trust as far as she could throw him. Which wouldn't be far, though she would enjoy the spectacle.

The American interrupts her thoughts by telling Liam to pull over so they can get some lunch, and they pull up to a McDonalds drive through. After they've collected lunch she gets out to use the bathroom, hat and sunglasses in place and the two men sit silently as they wait for her return. Once she comes back Liam can go himself, then Jasper.

She comes back and sits herself into the back seat and Liam gets out of the car.

Jasper decides to stretch his legs and strolls over to the back seat and opens her door. "Want some fresh air Princess?' he questions.

She's removed her hat and sunglasses and is completely silent. She has her face turned away and is looking out the other window.

At first he thinks she is continuing with her haughty airs, but then he looks closer and sees that there are tear tracks down her cheeks and her eyes are suspiciously red.

Before he even knows what he's doing he leans forward to run a hand over her tear tracks and wipe them away gently. Because even though she may be infuriating, and now that he can't manipulate her into sleeping with him, sexy in a wholly and irritatingly unattainable way, he's not that much of a jerk that he can't not recognise that she's also just a girl who's lost her father and her brother and had her world suddenly fall apart.

"It'll get better Princess, I promise," he tells her, and he sounds like he's trying to say something that's genuine to her for the first time today.

She blanches at the intrusion because she doesn't, _she can't_ trust this man. He may have very possibly killed her family, and she hasn't ruled out the risk that he may still be conspiring to kill her and her brother.

But this doesn't change the fact that right now she is horribly, terribly alone, and scared and she wants, oh she wants so badly, to have something in this world she can trust. Someone she can trust.


	13. Chapter 13

Forty eight hours have passed since they left England, and finally Jasper agrees to pull over and spend the night at a hotel so they can get some much needed rest.

It's their third night on the run, and they're onto their third vehicle. Jasper had broken into a new car yesterday, using his particular (dubiously) acquired set of skills.

Liam and Eleanor have both agreed between them that they're now in Russia, because the road signs are in unfamiliar symbols and everything is strange and unfamiliar.

They've been badgering him since lunchtime to pull over somewhere tonight where there is at least a shower, and toilet and beds, because they're both tired, and sore and in need of a wash. The American hasn't given a hint one way or the other whether he is planning to comply with their demands, which Eleanor is sure is just one cog in his larger game plan to irritate the hell out of her whenever he has the opportunity.

So it comes as a surprise when at 10pm that night he abruptly pulls over at and announces that they will be availing themselves of the accommodation they've come across.

Eleanor fairly tumbles out of the car, eager to stretch her aching legs and weary back and Liam follows after.

Jasper tells them to stay beside the car while he goes to the reception and they stand impatiently outside the car for a few minutes.

When they get to their rooms Eleanor just stares at it in amazement.

"Is _this_ where we're supposed to stay for the night?" she asks, turning full circle to check she's seeing the place correctly.

The rooms are incredibly basic, with concrete block walls painted a sterile white, burgundy bedspreads with a dodgy looking stain on them, no TV and a stark looking single stool in the corner. There are two beds in the room - one double and a single.

"You got it Princess," Jasper nods, looking at her with the trace of a grin. Her face says it all about how she feels about the accommodation, and he kind of enjoys it when she's brought back to reality after living a life of incredible privilege.

"It's very - Russian," Eleanor comments. She has enough awareness of the precariousness of their position to know that she and Liam don't have a cent in the world so they can hardly demand he get them a new room. The room is soviet block style functional and this is the most diplomatic way she can think of to express her doubts about the place.

Liam doesn't wait to hear his reply which is probably designed to stir up his sister. "It'll be fine," he announces, firmly. "Thank you for arranging it."

He turns to his sister, "Eleanor you can have the first shower," he tells her. She won't be able to argue with the American once she's out of the room.

The Princess gathers the towel placed on her bed, muttering something about fungal infections and cockroaches.

"I think you'll find there are no cockroaches in Russia," Jasper tells her helpfully. "Only an exceptionally wide array of snakes whose preferred residence is in toilet bowls."

There is no truth to this but it has the desired effect as the Princesses eyes widen in horror.

Inside the bathroom, she takes care to carefully open the toilet lid and examine the bowl thoroughly. She also looks down the drain of the sink and basin before deciding its safe to strip off and shower.

In the bedroom, Jasper takes off his army boots and the coat his nimble fingers have illegally acquired on their journey. He switches on the jug, one of few amenities in the place and makes himself a coffee.

"Let me see your wound," he tells Liam, after he's downed his coffee. He's had his fair share of basic medical training first with the CIA and then the British Army, and he knows the importance of ensuring a wound doesn't become infected.

Liam hikes up his shorts a couple of inches and Jasper inspects the scar carefully. "There's no sign of infection," he announces, "Looks like its healing well."

The Princess returns to the room, with wet messy hair, underwear on, a towel wrapped around her and another in her hands. "You can have the bathroom Liam. I've already inspected it for snakes and there's none there. And possibly never were," she adds, narrowing her gaze at the American. She's beginning to suspect he was having her on about them being a problem in Russia.

Liam picks up his towel and heads into the bathroom.

Eleanor busies herself drying off her hair. Unsurprisingly this place is so third world there is no hairdryer.

"Come here Princess," Jasper orders, when she puts down the towel, having done her best to try to dry her hair.

Eleanor barely manages to refrain from rolling her eyes at the presumptuous way he orders her around. "I'm not a dog you know. I don't just come on command," she informs him.

"I'm well aware of that," Jasper tells her, with an wicked gleam in his eye. "It took me a little more work than that to get you to come," he can hardly help from seizing the opportunity for a little innuendo when the opportunity presents itself. "I need to look at your wound."

She is now standing in front of him with an irritated expression and folded arms. "You really do define the term vulgar American, you know."

"Thank you Princess," Jasper replied smugly. He's going to take that as a compliment. "I need to look at your scar to see how its healing," he tells her. "Show me your back," he orders.

She stays standing there, clearly debating whether she ought to trust him to put his hands on her again, and he tires of this behaviour pretty fast and comes round behind her and unwraps her towel so it slides down her back.

She feels his hands part her hair in the centre of her back and push it forward over her shoulders. He peers at the scar across her back carefully. "It looks fine. It's a clean wound, no infection," he announces.

She's about to start shifting the towel back around her body when she feels his fingers pressing into her skin around her waist insistently, and his breath is hot against her neck.

"You feel so good-" he starts to say. Her skin feels soft and smooth under his hands and her hair smells clean and citrusy.

She's considering whether she ought to let him keep touching her because his hands evoke something in her like a sense of longing when she looks up to see Liam coming out of the bathroom.

She takes a quick step away from Jasper and clutches the towel carefully to her front.

Liam looks back at them. Jasper has already assumed his usual poker face. "Hey, are you checking her scar?" he asks, oblivious to anything else that might have been going on. "Let me have a look."

He comes around and inspects her back. "It's looking good Lenny. I doubt you'll be dying of septicaemia anytime soon."

"I should hope not," Eleanor shudders. "It sounds much too common as a way to die."

"Yes, the best kind of people are always trampled to death at Ascot after wandering onto the track when drunk on the finest French champayne or going down in a hail of designer drugs," Jasper quips.

"Quite so," Eleanor nods, surprised to find herself agreeing with him for once. If she had to die young, that would be the way to go.

Jasper grabs a towel and heads for the bathroom. He showers with military efficiency and appears back in the bedroom three minutes later.

Eleanor's still wrapped in the towel and is sitting on the single bed, clearly having staked her claim to it for the night.

Jasper sums up the situation with a glance. "Yeah, I'm not sharing a bed with him," he announces, gesturing towards Liam.

Liam looks up. "Yeah I'm not keen on sharing with him either. Not that I have anything against him personally," he adds, diplomatically. "I would just prefer not to share with a man."

"God, you're both so pathetic," Eleanor announces, joining the conversation. "Are you not capable of just sharing a double bed without assuming this is going to turn into Brokeback Mountain?'"

Hostile silence follows her question. To be honest, Jasper has his doubts about the Prince, but he kind of likes him despite this, even if its unwillingly.

"Well, all I know is that I'm not sharing with him," Jasper repeats his initial point, stubbornly.

"Yes well you're not sharing with my sister," Liam announces snappily, shutting down that option before he even suggests it, which from the look in his eye he suspects he's going to. "So I guess that leaves me sharing with Eleanor."

Jasper concedes to this option for now. But sooner or later, and preferably sooner, he's going to make sure he gets his hands on the Princess once more.


	14. Chapter 14

_Thanks for your reviews. Next chapter is up below._

* * *

It's been almost a month since they left England and Eleanor and Liam are still trying to settle into their new reality.

They're somewhere in the wilds of Russia - God knows where exactly because Jasper won't tell them and they have no car or computer to try and attempt to figure it out exactly for themselves.

They don't know how Jasper acquired the use of the cabin they're staying in and whether his means were legal or illegal. Most likely dubious, Eleanor suspects.

Its been ten days since they last saw the American when he came back with provisions and a book called 'Learn to speak Russian' which he ungraciously dumped on the table, telling them they both needed to read it. Then he announced he's been working a job in the city for the past week, and then promptly disappeared again.

Of course a leopard never changes his spots so when he was back he tried to get her into bed again. Three times to be precise, but she's managed to resist his charms, which turned out to be more difficult done than said. But whichever way she looks at it, she's not willing to screw someone who was involved in her father and brother's death, whether directly or indirectly through inaction.

She would like to think that with time, their deaths get less painful. But at night, with only herself for comfort, she still cries herself to sleep, remembering that she was part of a family of five, and now only her and her brother remain, thousands of miles from their home with no hope of return in the near future.

Out here she has no drugs, and only the meagre cigarettes the American provides her with. Aside from that there's the odd glass of cheap Vodka. It's not cold at least - because it's still summer, but she knows that come winter this place will be bitterly cold and they may not be able to go outside for months at a time.

For want of something to do, she does her best to attempt to learn Russian, which is far from easy, and she and Liam test each other on a new chapter each day. She also goes walking on the plain in front of them, but never in the woods which hold too many memories. And she contemplates her life, depressed at the thought that this may be all she ever has, all she ever knows - that she might grow old and die here with no one ever knowing.

* * *

Jasper's quickly formed the opinion that come winter Samara's going to be hell.

Russia's new elite generally operates outside the short, squat arm of the Russian law, and they require protection. And he needs money.

So it was only a matter of days before he found himself a job providing protection for a 'business associate' of the Russian mafia.

The job pays well and in summer the city of Samara's not too bad, it sits on the banks of the Volga River and has some pretty older buildings, some good pubs and the rents not too expensive.

So in August in spite of the fact that his Russian is limited, the city is ok as a place to be. But come late October everything will start to freeze over and stay that way for nearly six months and he has plans to be out of here well before then.

He reasons with himself that he's done the right thing here - for once in his life. He got the Prince and Princess out of England with their lives, and he's set them up in a humble cabin his boss owns. What exactly the cabin is needed for Jasper hasn't asked but he suspects its the first place people are sent to contemplate their debts, with the next stop being the bottom of the Volga river. He's even drawn the line at extorting the Princess for sex again in exchange for cigarettes, because he might be an asshole but he's not so much of an asshole that he's going to exploit her addictions when her father and brother have just been murdered in cold blood. This hasn't stopped him from trying to get her into bed - he still likes a challenge. But she is stubbornly having none of it, apparently, and he thinks he's nearly ready to pack it all in and head home for America.

There's not much news coming out of Britain and what he does hear doesn't inspire him to think the Royal family might be restored anytime soon.

True to form, the military puts it out that the Royals and the Cabinet were murdered by anti democracy protesters, their new term for anyone who protests against economic reforms.

When Jasper reads in the small print of a English language Russian paper that America has signed a $230 million arms deal with Britain, suddenly everything falls into place.

America has been negotiating an arms deal with the General which would see a significant expansion in the British military. And on the other side of the pond more money in the deep pockets of the US armament industry.

Whatever noises his country may make publicly about restoring democracy are just that - noise - and they're willing to turn a blind eye to the crimes the General perpetrates to establish his rule, including the murder of the Royal family. And the crimes will most likely keep coming under a new military dictatorship armed to its teeth.

But Jasper's already decided that he's done his best for the Royal twins and they're no longer his responsibility - thank god. There's just a final few things to do, which he'll have to sort out with the former Prince and Princess.

He arrives back at the cabin on a Saturday morning, and announces that they're going to need some form of income and that's going to come from what's hanging around the Princesses neck and arms. And on her ears.

He tells her to take off her necklace and bracelet and earrings. She complies, but ungraciously, dumping them on the table.

He examines them carefully.

"I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is 24 carat gold and the diamonds are real," he looks up and announces as two sets of eyes look back at him expectantly.

Eleanor rolls her eyes, "I am a real Princess you know so of course I'd wear real diamonds. We're not some tinpot little monarchy. My family have reigned for nearly a thousand years."

Jasper shrugs. "You never know someone could have needed money and pulled a sleight of hand by exchanging them for fake ones. It's happened before. Could be a new house or designer clothes, or drugs," he adds giving the Princess a look.

"Hey," she bites back resentfully. "I fund my drugs from my own income not from selling the family silver."

Jasper raises an eyebrow, "Taxpayer funded income, I presume," he replies.

Eleanor glares at him, then falls silent. It's typical of him to hit the nail on the head without even trying.

"So now both of you are going to need some income to pay for your groceries and necessities - which apparently include things like drugs and designer clothes," he pauses and gives the Princess another look.

"You can take that self righteous look of your face," Eleanor interrupts him, "I'm off the drugs now. And I don't require couturier fashion anymore. High end daywear will suffice," she declares.

Jasper smirks briefly, "so I propose that I arrange to sell the Princesses jewellery which should fetch a tidy sum to keep you both comfortable for some time."

Eleanor and Liam glance at each other for a moment.

"Ok then, I agree," Eleanor says, graciously. "I don't need the jewellery but we both need to eat."

Liam takes off his Rolex and adds it into the jewellery pile in front of them. "You can add that to the estate sale," he tells Jasper decisively.

"Good," Jasper leans back in his chair and flexes his hands. "So then the other business we need to take care of is the Princess," Jasper declares.

"What do you mean take care of me?" Eleanor asks, immediately suspicious. "Do you mean take care of me as in I'll be found floating upside down in the river one day?"

"No I mean take care of you so that you _won't_ be found floating upside down in the river," Jasper informs her. "Or kidnapped by Russian criminals. Or reported to the authorities as an illegal immigrant."

"But why are you picking on me here?" Eleanor asks, frowning. "Isn't Liam just as at risk of having these things happen to him?" she questions.

"Liam is most at risk from you. And you're more of a risk to yourself," Jasper abruptly gets up and pours himself a glass of vodka.

"I am no such thing-" Eleanor starts hotly.

"The both of you need to be able to live here without arousing suspicion," Jasper interrupts. "You need to be able to go out in public unnoticed and blend in with the locals," Jasper tells both of them, looking from one to the other.

"Liam can get by looking like a relatively normal person," Jasper says and leans forward and takes a swill of his drink. "But you Princess," he says pointing his finger at her, "are every inch the Princess and it's going to get you in trouble here."

"Yeah, you kind of are Lenny," Liam agrees, cocking his head to the side. "I mean the way you sit, and walk and talk is not like a normal person. I'm not saying I blame you. I guess it was that deportment madam Mum brought it to train you when you were seven and all the stuff Mum and Grandma shoved down your throat when you were young," he says.

Jasper speaks up again, "so somehow over the next week or two we're going to have to deprincessify you so you can go out in public and not arouse suspicion. We'll start now and carry on next weekend when I'm back again."

"Stand up," Jasper orders her.

Eleanor looks at him resentfully. Those were the exact words he used when he screwed her for cigarattes the first time. She wonders if he is deliberately trying to provoke her in front of Liam because he knows she won't raise that particular incident with him present.

After a moment's hesitation she complies, rising gracefully to her feet.

Jasper looks back at her frowning. Even the way she gets up screams some sort of aristocratic blood but he can't tackle everything in one day. He has bigger fish to fry.

"Wave your hand at me," Jasper instructs, because this is the first thing on his hit list.

Her hand moves only from the wristing in some kind of swirling motion which is nothing like a normal wave.

"No," he announces. "That's definitely not a wave, that's some kind of Royal deviant swirl."

"My grandmother taught me how to do that and she says it stems from the hand gesture the Kings used to pardon people who had committed crimes," Eleanor tells him, sounding offended.

"Well, a fat lot of use that's going to be now," Jasper says rudely. "This is how you wave," he motions his hand. "Now you try it. Liam too," he instructs. He's not sure whether this deviant wave has infected the whole family.

Both of them stand there copying his movements for a few minutes until he's satisfied they've mastered something everyone else in Britain did at two.

"Fine," he says, moving on. "Now we're going to practice getting out of a car. Come outside," he orders. "Liam you've already got this," he tells him, having seen Liam manage to exit a car like any normal person.

"Now get in the backseat and show me how you get out of the car," he instructs Eleanor.

Eleanor gets into the car and sits waiting.

"Are you going to open the door for me?," she asks, puzzled.

Jasper rolls his eyes, "No Princess I'm not going to open the door for you because normal people don't employ footmen to follow them around and open their doors."

"That's actually normally the drivers job. Or my bodyguard," she corrects him.

"Yeah whatever," he replies, rudely. "Anyway the doors not going to open itself while we're having this conversation."

She takes the hint to stop arguing and start exiting the vehicle and appears to have mastered finding the handle and pushing as she gives it a push and then steps both feet onto the floor, slides and stands up cleanly. Her movements are exactly like some Hollywood starlet carefully exiting a limo and nothing like how most people would approach the task at hand.

Jasper sighs and steps into the car. "Yeah can we try it like this," he says demonstrating placing his feet out the door, sliding and getting out in one smooth motion.

Eleanor's watching him carefully. "You know you didn't even check to see if there's a puddle of water on the ground before you stepped out. You would have ruined an expensive dress if you were wearing one," she chides.

Jasper rolls his eyes. He's not even getting into why on earth he would possibly be wearing a designer evening dress in this scenario. All he knows is that they have a lot more learnings to get through and its clearly going to be a long day.

* * *

Jasper has to return to the city the next morning but he's back the following weekend. He's placed the Princesses jewels with a Berlin jeweller for anonymous sale and he's confident they'll get a good price.

He spends a couple of hours with the Princess teaching her how to meet and greet people without appearing as if she were hosting a Royal garden party, then he moves onto visiting a store, something she rarely, if ever does herself, but which Liam seems to have done quite often in his old life. He seriously doesn't think he can stomach attempting to teach her to drive. Liam will have to be the one behind the wheel for the safety of the Russian public.

Liam and Jasper are sitting at the dining table, and Jasper is grilling him on Russian phrases, with Liam holding up his own end of the conversation admirably.

After a few minutes Eleanor exits the bathroom and heads for the kitchen, and Liam takes a look at her face.

"Lenny's ill. She needs to see a doctor," Liam announces, frowning. He starting to get concerned about her.

Eleanor has frozen to the spot. She turns away from them to put the kettle on and make tea. "I'm fine," she protests, not turning around to look at either of them. He hears the cups rattle in her hand as she makes tea.

"You're not fine," Liam argues. "Yesterday you looked terrible and you're not much better this morning."

Jasper has stopped flipping the pages of the Russian phrasebook and is suddenly still. Yesterday morning he'd thought nothing of it when she'd fled into the bathroom and locked herself in there for half an hour and emerged looked pale and drained. By lunchtime she was looking like herself again and he'd assuming it was a passing tummy bug or perhaps something she'd eaten.

But this morning she'd done the exact same thing. She probably thought he hadn't noticed but he was a spy after all. He was trained to notice everything and he had a fair idea what this behaviour meant.

Liam's too clueless to work it out, but then of course he hasn't had the opportunity to count the weeks and do the math like he has.

Of course he could be wrong. But if his suspicions are correct, it occurs to him that this will change everything. Because he's not sure he can simply up and leave Russia right now. And if he's right then the Royal blood lingers on in not just the Prince and the Princess, but in her child which is also very likely his child.

And with it the threat that that poses to both their lives.


	15. Chapter 15

_Thanks for your reviews (which I did get via email even though they're not showing up on the site). So glad you're enjoying the twists and turns - next chapter below after the drama of last chapter_

* * *

It's a half hour before Liam finally leaves them alone and goes into his room.

Then when Eleanor turns around from folding the laundry - one of a number of life skills she is in the process of mastering - Jasper's standing right in her face, watching her.

"Is there anything you want to tell me Princess?, he questions.

"Yes," she replies coolly, "you're in my way. I need to put this down."

Jasper takes the folded washing from her hands and sets it down on the table nearby. "I meant is there anything more significant you think you should tell me?" His jaw looks tight, which she thinks signals he's angry.

"I don't think so," she says snappily. His line of questioning is starting to make her uncomfortable.

Jasper steps forward. "You look pale," he says, and his voice takes on a softer edge. Unexpectedly, his hand runs lightly over the skin on her cheek.

She is almost tempted to lean in to his touch, to lean in to him, but she steels herself not to. "Yes, well, it's not easy being stuck here with nothing to do and no one else for company except for Liam," she replies. There are times when she longs to have someone else around, even this irritating American would do.

She's still standing there, deliberately not looking at him, while he stands close into her, looking down at her face, scrutinising her. "Liam thinks you're ill. But I don't think you are. I think you're getting sick in the morning means you're pregnant Princess."

He hears her draw a sharp breath in, but she doesn't say a word, and she still won't look him in the eye.

She's suspected this was a possibility for the last week or so, and has been hoping she's wrong. But her feeling horribly queasy for the second morning in a row today has changed this from a possibility to a probability and a problem which she needs time to process. What she doesn't need is him being in her face, questioning her, scrutinising her as if he has a right to do this, when he has no right.

"Are you?" he asks, pressing his question.

Finally she looks up at him. "I don't know," she snaps. "How could I possibly be sure out here?"

He doesn't miss the way her voice has gone shaky and her breathing has turned quick and shallow.

Jasper puts a hand on her arm, trying to steady her and his touch burns hot against her skin. "What symptoms do you have? Are you late?" Jasper asks.

She sits down abruptly on the chair by the table as if her legs won't support her any more. "This is the second morning I've been feeling so queasy and I haven't had a period since before we were taken hostage by the army," this is the first time she's confessed this to anyone and there's some relief in saying it out loud.

"Which was six weeks ago," Jasper adds, knotting his eyebrows together.

Eleanor looks up at him and glares at him, "you know if you've got me pregnant this is just another nail in the coffin of my life. Having a baby out here will be terrifying. And I don't know how to look after a baby, I'm still learning how to take care of myself. So thank you for ruining everything, you bastard," she hisses.

At her words he feels a heavy sense of guilt weigh on him, not an emotion he normally permits himself to feel.

He sits down heavily into the seat and leans forward and takes her hand. "I will help you through this. You were right when you said I'm no gentleman and I haven't been a gentleman towards you which is how we got into this mess. But I will take care of you, I promise you Eleanor."

The sound of her name on his lips sounds like an endearment and she's suddenly reminded of the last time he uttered her name when his lips were on her ear, his body on top of hers, skin against skin in the bed where what is very likely their child was undoubtedly conceived. The memory makes her draw a sharp breath and she's glad she's sitting down because her body is trembling.

He loosens his hand from hers and gets to his feet. "You'll need to take a pregnancy test because we need to know one way or the other for sure," he says, his mood turning decisive. He turns away and grabs the car keys.

He's gone for nearly two hours, because they're far from the city in their little cabin.

In the meantime Eleanor waits in the cabin, tense and silent. Even Liam, who's not the most observant soul, picks up on her turmoil and asks her twice if everything is alright. She brushes off his questions with platitudes.

Then Jasper comes back to the house and shoves a paper bag towards the Princess, who disappears into the bathroom.

Five minutes later she leaves the bathroom, rushing for her bedroom.

Jasper doesn't even bother to knock on her door, but pushes his way into her room uninvited.

Liam hears the sound of muffled voices, and his sister's voice is shrill and accusing.

He knocks on her door, telling them to let him in and waits impatiently.

Jasper opens the door, pushing past him and exiting the bedroom. He's followed by his sister, who he sees has been crying.

"Lenny are you alright?" Liam asks, looking concerned. He comes over to her and puts an arm around her and she leans into him instinctively. She looks drained. "Are you ill? You still look sick," he says.

Jasper clears his throat. "She's not ill, she's pregnant," he announces, looking Liam in the eye. This will have to come out sooner or later and sooner would be better for everyone involved.

Liam stares at Jasper, then his sister. "What? I mean how did - Who's the father?", incoherent questions tumble out of his mouth.

"I am", Jasper answers brusquely and Liam stares open mouthed at Jasper who meets his gaze with open defiance, and then to his sister who is looking at the floor.


	16. Chapter 16

"You," Liam yells, angrily, pointing an accusing finger at Jasper. "How did this even happen - I mean _when_?"

As far as he can recall the two of them have never even been alone together.

"It was when we were at the farm house," Jasper answers him, his voice tense. He doesn't expect this to end well.

Liam looks like he's about to explode. "So you were supposed to be guarding my sister, you were supposed to be protecting her and instead you were busy _screwing her_! And now she's bloody _pregnant_."

"Yes," Jasper replies back. His brows are furrowed together but aside from that there's no visible trace of emotion on his face and this enrages Liam even further.

Liam suddenly launches himself at Jasper, throwing a punch into his face, and they fall on the floor in a shuffle. "You fucking asshole," Liam is screaming in Jasper's face and Jasper is trying to push the Prince off him and to hold himself back from returning the punch.

"That's enough," Eleanor screams. "Stop it both of you, just stop it before you kill each other. Stop it _right now_ ," she's still screaming and her voice becomes higher and higher pitched. She can feel herself getting short of breath and near hysterical at the thought of her brother - the only surviving family member she has out here - being injured or hurt because she knows that the American can be a very dangerous man if he's angry. The bruises around her neck that lingered for days after he choked her are proof of that.

Liam suddenly comes to his senses and pulls himself up off Jasper and stands up, staring sullenly at the American.

"I'll stop trying to kill you," he concedes testily. "Not because you don't deserve it," he snaps. "But because it would upset my sister, and you've already made her cry enough. And she's pregnant now, thanks to the fact that you can't control yourself enough to keep your hands off her," he spits out.

"Thank you Liam," Eleanor is by his side in two steps, intensely grateful that he's not going to be pummelled to death for his outburst. She steps into his chest and he wraps an arm around her shoulders protectively, and they both stare back at the American.

Jasper has traces of blood on his lip and swipes a hand across his face, looking annoyed to see the flecks of blood on his hand. He finally speaks up, looking from one twin to the other, his face serious.

"You'll have to believe me when I say I never intended for this to happen. And Liam's right - I should never have laid a hand on the Princess. But I did and I can't take back what's happened now. But I will stay here with you and I'll do my best to help you both. And you're gonna need me and my skills," he adds, frowning. He can see now that he talked himself into thinking they could get by without him because the lure of America and freedom and warm weather was enticing, but in reality neither of them were ready yet to survive out here on their own. They need him, they really need him.

Liam's still fuming but he's trying to keep a lid on his temper for his sister's sake. "You may stay here if you wish to," he says, lapsing into his old Royal style of communication. "But if you do anything to hurt my sister again I will kill you, I promise you that," he threatens, glaring at Jasper challengingly.

"I won't," Jasper replies back, his face serious.

With that Liam nods then turns on his heel and heads for his room, slamming the door behind him.

Eleanor takes one look at Jasper, who gives her a long look and then turns herself and makes for the front door.

At first she runs, stumbling blindly in her haste to get away from the house and that scene.

Her stomach has settled now, but its after lunch and she hasn't had a bite to eat all day and she's suddenly tired, burdened with the extra responsibilities that have now come her way and exhausted from the drama that has just passed.

She stops running and drops to her knees, panting for a minute before falling still. The sky is a dark grey that threatens rain and the wind whips across the grass tops which ripple in waves.

She sees him coming from a mile off, but she doesn't have the energy to move. And on this vast grassland plain there's nowhere to run or hide anyway. So she watches as his figures looms ever closer until he's finally standing in front of her, looking down on her from a great height.

"Why are you here?," she questions, uttering the first thing that comes into her head.

"I wanted to see you," he tells her. 'I needed to see you. To check you were ok." One look at her is enough to tell him she's not ok.

She's collapsed in a puff of yellow cotton on the ground, and her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders in waves. She's wearing the sundress he brought her in France which he brought on an impulse because it reminded him of home, of cheerleaders and Apple pie and it looks so sunshiny and wholesome and it was totally at odds with everything the Princess is and he kind of wanted to amuse himself by seeing how she reacted to it. Needless to say she wasn't impressed but she only has two other outfits to choose from so she's forced to wear it.

Without her gothic makeup and clothing she looks young, and frightened. She's stopped crying now but the thin layer of eyeliner she has on has smudged a little.

She looks up at him silently and extends her hand upwards, waiting for him to take her hand and help her to her feet. He thinks to himself that only a true Princess would make that movement with such grace and such total assurance that no one would dare not to help her.

He takes her hand and helps her to stand and she dusts off her dress in one quick movement.

"I know that you like to kill people so I appreciate your not killing Liam," she tells him, nodding her head graciously. The few times he's gotten drunk with her and Liam and ended up talking have finished with him telling stories about killing someone.

He shrugs. 'I don't always kill people I fight. Only most of the time."

Well, nearly all of the time.

"But I kind of like the Prince," he tells her. "And I can understand why he was angry. I have a sister too and if anyone knocked her up I'd punch them in the face too. And everywhere else," he adds hotly.

"Liam's all I have now," Eleanor says, looking down as she tugs at the material of her dress, pulling it through her fingers nervously. "I don't think I could go on if anything happened to him," she confesses, and then wonders why she is telling him this.

"That's not true Princess," he corrects her. "You have me," he tells her.

She looks back up at him and he is looking at her intently.

She steps back and he steps forward, and she steps back again and he steps forward once more and then his hand snakes around her back and he pulls her in towards her. "You have me," he repeats, and he puts his hand on her stomach and his broad hands span across the thin fabric of her dress effortlessly. "That's our baby Princess and I'll be here to take care of it always and to take care of you."

She looks up at him. So he is offering her himself, he's offering her some form of security and protection, if she will have him, if she can trust him. But can she?

* * *

 _Yes reviewers, Jasper definitely got punched! You got that right. And yes someone did get that Eleanor did stop the fight too! Well done._

 _Anyway I appreciate all your reviews and please keep guessing what's going to happen next..._


	17. Chapter 17

_Thanks for your reviews, I love getting them. Another chapter is below..._

* * *

He's never told them anything about himself and mostly stalls any questions which would reveal who he actually is and why he is here.

So Eleanor has a thousand questions for him, and she thinks she finally deserves some answers.

"I don't know anything about you, Jasper from Las Vegas," she steps back from him and starts. "I need you to answer my questions and I _want_ the truth. You owe me that much."

"Ok," he replies conceding he owes her some answers. He tilts his head to the side, waiting for what's next.

"Did you kill my father and brother?" she questions, watching his face carefully for any trace of guilt. Liam says the American claims he wasn't involved but she needs to hear for herself and be the judge of whether he's telling the truth.

"No," his reply is emphatic as he shakes his head vigorously. "If I'd known they were planning that I would have done my best to stop it," he says, and something that sounds like genuine regret is in his voice.

"Why would you have tried to stop it?" Eleanor questions sharply. If he was in the Army he was in on their plans.

"Because I don't actually work for the British Army I work for the CIA. Who were monitoring what the Army was up to," he replies, folding his arms.

"Why didn't they try and stop the Army then? Why didn't they stop them from killing my family and trying to murder Liam and I," she almost screams it against the whistle of the wind, her voice tortured.

Her hands are starting to shake and she needs a cigarette right now. She needs something to feed her addictions because the memories of her father and brother being sherpharded into the woods like lambs to the slaughter is torture.

"Because they didn't care if you were murdered," he says bluntly, his brow furrowed. "They don't care at all." He looks up at her and holds her gaze. "But I do."

She holds his gaze for a moment, then looks away. She's not done with her questions yet, and she's still not sure if she can trust him.

"Is my mother dead?"

"As far as I'm aware she's still alive and unharmed," he answers.

"Are they still trying to track us now and kill us?" she questions, and she can't stop her voice from trembling at the thought that this may never be over for them, that one day the life they are trying to built here could all be shot to pieces, along with her and her brother. And their child.

"Quite possibly. I'm not sure," he answers honestly. "Which is why we have to take every precaution, and you have to do what I say."

He can see her processing this. It's not the answer she was hoping for, he can tell, but he said he would tell the truth.

"Why did you fuck me?," she eyeballs him, demanding next. "Was that tied up in your plan somehow?"

"Hardly," he scoffs. "You were supposedly off limits. I did that because I wanted you. I still want you," he says with emphasis.

She deliberately ignores his come on. "And you couldn't have just worn a bloody condom?," she says again, accusingly, as she repeats the same words she used in the bedroom ten minutes ago.

"I didn't have one," he says, and he at least has the grace to look slightly remorseful. He hadn't planned on taking into account the effect the Princess had on him. And he was hardly going to ask to borrow one from another soldier when the Princess was strictly off limits according to their Major.

This whole situation makes her feel stupid too. She'd never made the best life choices and letting him screw her was hardly her finest moment. At the time she was so fixated on feeding her addiction to cigarettes and the cravings for nicotine were driving her crazy that she didn't stop to consider this outcome.

But now she remembers that the way he fucked her was not like other men. There is a memory of his powerfully athletic physique pounding into her - sharp thrust after sharp thrust sinking deep into her, bringing her traitorous body to a violent shuddering orgasm, it seems obvious that there would be a consequence to this. That he would leave some kind of mark on her forever.

Which leads them back to where they are right now, in this messed up fuckery of their own making. Or she thinks resentfully, mostly of his making.

"There's no point in going over old ground any more. What's done is done and we have to deal with this situation now," he adds firmly.

But she's not ready to let him off the hook so lightly.

"You know you're a selfish, oversexed, trigger happy asshole," she tells him, pointing her finger at him accusingly. She still holds him responsible for knocking her up.

"Yeah, that has been said before," he agrees, raising an eyebrow. "You know you're a demanding, high maintenance, drama queen of a Princess," he adds in reply.

"Not a Princess, _the_ Princess," she corrects him haughtily.

"Fine, you're _the_ demanding, high maintenance, drama queen Princess," he repeats sarcastically.

In truth she's no longer the Princess of anything, but he doesn't have it in him to remind her of this right now.

"I guess that makes us even then," he adds, smirking.

She shrugs her shoulders noncommittally. "Perhaps."

They look at each other for a minute and then the Princess takes a few steps and turns away from him.

She feels rather than hears him approach her, when his breath tickles her neck and hair as he presses himself into her back and runs his hand up her arm.

"What are you thinking?" he demands. She's lapsed into silence and he's not sure what's occupying her thoughts.

"I'm scared," she confesses.

He doesn't bother to ask why because she has a dozen reasons to be scared and none of them are secret. She's pregnant and in the middle of nowhere with no medical facilities nearby. She's too young to become a mother. She's a foreigner in a strange land where she doesn't speak the language. She's probably afraid her brother won't support her. She's still a target for assassination and now her child will be too.

"It's ok," he says, and his hand runs down her hair, stroking it. "Everything's going to be ok. We'll get through this."

He's speaking to her in a low, deliberate voice and she wants so much to believe his words. That she and Liam will be safe, that her baby will be safe.

So she stands there and lets him keep holding her close as the sky turns from an ominous grey into charcoal, and drops of rain start falling from the sky, slow at first but quickly turning into a heavy downpour.

Jasper suddenly lets her go and then grabs her hand and pulls her towards a haywagon a hundred metres from where they are. He lifts up the tarpaulin covering the wagon and pushes her underneath it then climbs in after her.

Then his hands are on her again and when he turns his head to kiss her she lets herself go and kisses him back, as the rain batters down above them, blocking out any other sounds.


	18. Chapter 18

It's pitch black underneath the covering and her heart beats loudly against her chest and when he draws her close this only makes it beat faster still.

His mouth presses against hers and his hands are in her hair and he feels so solid and real that it makes her feel less alone in this world.

His hands start pushing up her dress and sliding down her knickers and then tugging at the zip so that the top of her dress peels apart.

He sinks into her, as his mouth descends onto her breast.

Her arms grip his broad shoulders as if her life depends on it, and it does sort of - or at least on him.

In the dark she has nothing to go on but his touch and voice and she wants everything he has promised her to be true, but she can't see his face to see if he means any of it.

He's moving inside her in slow, shuddering movements, and his face is resting against her cheek.

"I can't do this on my own," she says to him in between thrusts. "I can't-"

He shifts his face and kisses her, cutting her off. "You don't have to," she can hear from his voice he's short of breath already. "You don't have to do anything alone Eleanor," he rests a hand on her forehead, tracing his thumb over her skin.

She shifts her legs underneath him so he can sink deeper into her. "Ok,' she breathes and tightens her grip on him, lacing her hands into the back of his neck as he starts moving harder and faster.

"Everything's going to be fine," he repeats his words from earlier in laboured breaths.

He threads his hand through hers and soon she's forgotten anything else but the two of then, here and now, in the dark.

* * *

He stops her just before they get back to the house and starts picking bits of hay out of her hair and brushing them off her dress.

"Your brother's probably still barely managing to hold himself back from killing me so I don't want to set him off any further by having you like we've just had a roll in the hay. Which we have. Literally," he explains as he walks round inspecting her to check there are no more pieces he's missed. She's looking a little bit flushed and tousled but arguably that could pass for the effects of a walk and fresh air from her brother's point of view, although he knows better.

"Well in that case I should probably remove this," Eleanor steps up on her toes and brushes a piece of hay off the back of his head, "and this," she moves round the back of him and brushes another piece off his back.

He submits to her attention without a word, then looks her in the eye. "Right, time to face the music Princess. If your brother comes at me again I'll hold him down and you can tie him up until he cools down."

She raises her eyebrow back at him, "He's not a dog Jasper. And this is not a sex party either. He is my twin. You have to remember that," she tells him.

"I wouldn't be opposed to this turning into a sex party if Liam's not involved," he tells her. He is a reasonable man after all. "But all I know is I'm not getting my face punched in a second time on account of your honour, that's for sure," he mutters truculently.

Then he pushes the door open and it takes him by surprise when she slides her hand into his, without saying a word or even looking him in the face. They step into the room.

Liam's still in his room, fortunately, so there's no second confrontation. Or at least not yet anyway.

Jasper goes over to the kitchen, still holding Eleanor's hand then lets it go when he opens it and inspects it. "Have you had anything to eat today?" he questions.

She shakes her head. She was feeling too ill this morning and then of course the whole baby drama kicked off with a vengeance after that.

He suspected as much.

Eleanor's peering at his face, frowning. There's still spots of blood on his mouth. She picks up a paper towel and runs it over his mouth, carefully wiping away the traces of blood that remain there. "You should have some ice on your face for your bruise," she suggests.

Jasper dismisses that swiftly with a shake of his head, "Yeah, I'm not traipsing around all afternoon with a packet of frozen peas glued to my face. It'll probably look bad tomorrow but it'll go away a day or two later."

He turns his attention back to the kitchen and it takes three minutes for him to make two toasted cheese sandwiches, and dump one on a plate then pass it to her.

"Eat that," he orders. "We can't have you wasting away."

Eleanor's sits herself unceremoniously on the dining table, ignoring the chairs and picks up the sandwich. She's starving and takes a few large bites, savouring its taste.

"I like this," she tells him. "You know at the Palace I wasn't allowed to eat cheese," she confesses. "Or ice cream."

Jasper raises an eyebrow. "That's stupid Princess. They're both food groups in their own right," he comments. Or at least in America they are. "Why not?"

"My mum was permanently on diet where high fat foods were off the menu and she gave the Palace chefs instructions that I was to be put on the same diet so that I didn't get even a pound too heavy. You know when my Aunt put on weight after she had my cousins the papers called her the Duchess of Pork. That was before she became Queen and then they called her the a lot of things worse than that," she tells him between bites. Even now she feels slightly guilty about eating something forbidden.

Jasper shakes his head. "You being on a diet is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of. You're like a little twig or something."

Eleanor looks up at him, frowning.

"I mean you're like skinny and fragile looking," he amends, trying not to put his foot in it anymore. And _beautiful_ , he adds in his head.

"And you're like a giant ego and a giant mouth with a permanent erection," she fires back at him, still underwhelmed with his description of her, because when her mother wasn't fretting about her potentially getting too fat the girls at her very expensive school were making fun of her for being too skinny.

He smirks because he kind of likes her description. "A permanent _giant_ erection," he corrects her. "You of all people should know that," he adds smugly.

She rolls her eyes but decides not to debate this with him. Mostly because its actually true.

She's sitting on the table top swinging her legs, when she finishes the last bite of the breakfast come lunch he's made her.

Then she looks up at him and fixes her gaze on him. "Why are you doing all these things for us? For me?" she questions. At home people only ever did things because she was the Princess and they only wanted to be friends with her or meet her because of her title or fame. No one wanted to know her for herself. And here she's not even the Princess - she's nothing. Nobody.

"I made a promise to your father to take care of you because you were precious to him," he says evenly. "And maybe he wasn't the only one you were precious to. Maybe you're precious to me too," he adds and gives her a long look, then turns back to start doing the dishes.

She stares back at him, eyes wide. She's not sure whatever it is they have between then but maybe it could be something. Maybe _they_ could be something.

* * *

 _Ha ha no I haven't been to cliffhanger school. Is that where lemmings go?_

 _Thanks for your reviews. We are nearing the end of the story only a couple more chapter to go now!_


	19. Chapter 19

"Are you ready?" Jasper yells, from the living room.

Eleanor takes one final look at herself in the mirror and makes her way out of the bedroom.

She doesn't look happy. "I look like a pregnant school teacher," she complains. "Who's about to go ice skating."

She's five months pregnant now and none of her old clothes fit so she has to wear things that are frumpy and boring. And to make matters worse, once summer faded she could no longer wear sunglasses outdoors, so Jasper took it upon himself to buy her a pair of fake spectacles to make her look less like herself.

Though in her own opinion, the glasses are pointless, because now no one looks at her face, they only look at her belly. She buttons her coat up to hide the offending bump and pulls her woollen hat down to her ears.

"More like a librarian," Jasper offers an opinion. "Who's mild mannered on the outside but extremely dirty in bed."

"Is _that_ why you brought me these ridiculous spectacles?" Eleanor demands crossly, "because the idea of me looking like a librarian gets you going?"

"I _am_ still in this room," Liam looks up from his book, afraid to let this conversation go any further.

They both look up at him simultaneously. "Oh yeah," Eleanor mutters. "Too much information, I guess," Jasper says, as a sort of half hearted attempt at an apology.

Nowdays, Liam looks quite different from the boyish Prince he was. His hair is close shaved and on Jasper's suggestion he's grown himself a goatee, something Eleanor thinks looks frankly stupid, and tells him so. But as a disguise it certainly makes him look different.

"How do you say 'You're an oversexed asshole' in Russian?' Eleanor questions Liam. "Because I'm going to need to know that phrase," she adds.

Liam's Russian is superior to hers because he wants to teach English to students and he's spends five hours a day practicing Russian so he can start giving lessons soon. Eleanor's not as fluent, though she is applying herself diligently for two hours a day too.

"Vy dostignuto giperseksual'nyye mudak," Liam tells her. "Or something like that."

"Anyway, I have some news for both of you," Liam tells them, interrupting his sister before she can annoy Jasper by trying out her new vocabulary.

He gets up and goes to the table, grabs a white envelope which has had the seal broken once already and hands it to Eleanor. "Open it."

Eleanor looks back at him, puzzled. It's addressed to her new name, Lena Porter and Liam's new name James Porter. In addition to fake names, Jasper also produced fake identification for the three of them, which he tells them he acquired from a mafia associate on an ask no questions tell no lies basis.

She opens the envelope and scans the few lines of the letter in confusion.

"It's a letter saying they want to publish my book. _Which I never sent to them in the first place I might add_ ," she says, frowning.

Liam's beaming back at her. "But I did," he announces.

Two months ago she'd been a combination of bored and frustrated. Bored because she had nothing to do and frustrated because she couldn't find any books in English for when their baby was born.

So she'd sat herself down at the kitchen table and decided to write her own story in English. She'd written about what she knew - her horse Charlie. The adventures he had when he was riding around the countryside, how he liked carrots and to be brushed down and how there was a little girl who loved him with all her heart.

She had shown Liam and Jasper her story and they both thought it was fantastic. A week later she'd caught Liam in his bedroom drawing and when she demanded to be shown the pictures she'd seen he'd drawn something to go on every page of her book. She'd almost cried because Liam's drawings were good, not _perfect_ , of course, but there was so much love put into it that she couldn't help but be moved by his efforts.

"I sent the story to five publishers in America under your new name and one of them wants to publish your story," Liam tells her. He looks pleased as punch. "Congratulations," he adds.

Jasper draws her close. "That's the best news baby. Your story was great and you deserve this."

Eleanor's been processing the news that she's going to become a published author silently and in shock, but when Jasper gives her a smile she returns it a thousand fold.

"So when our baby reads the book it will look beautiful with colour drawings and nice paper," she says. "And we'll have some more money to buy them some more things."

Jasper nods. "Our baby will have everything it needs," he replies.

The sale of their jewellery raised twenty two thousand pounds, and Jasper's new security job pays reasonably well. But the profits from her book will provide another source of income and Eleanor's excited about the idea that she contributed something to their income from her own efforts.

Jasper takes her hand. "Now we need to go or we'll be late."

They step outside into the chill of the December air.

It's been seven weeks since they moved nearly a thousand miles south to the outskirts of Yeysk, near the Black Sea. They both agreed that spending the winter frozen inside with a foot of snow around them was not what either of them wanted and when the baby gets older Eleanor wants it to be able to go outside for most of the year.

Where they are now the climate is milder. The summers are hot, and while the winters are cold, they're not bone chillingly so. The city is a summer resort and its actually quite pretty - with gracious parks, and long golden beaches and mineral spas.

Eleanor's been allowed out, but only when escorted by Jasper, since they arrived here.

He has to admit that his attempts to unprincessify the former Princess have not been wholly successful. He had hoped to weed all of her telling Princess like behaviour right out of her but its proved harder done than said. She can pick up and mimic his actions and carry them out in public, when he prompts her too, but at home she lapses back into her old Regal ways. He supposes it was unrealistic to expect to undo twenty years of training in a few weeks.

So now when they go out, he has to remind her how to act and he won't let he go alone.

It takes 25 minutes to reach the doctor's office, and as usual things are running late. They wait for a further 30 minutes before he seems them.

He addresses them both in Russian, and as Jasper's grasp of the language is a little better than hers he has to translate for her at times, as best he can.

A few minutes later she is lying on the seat with a cool gel over her belly as the nurse scans over her tummy while Jasper holds her hand.

"See the foot there," Jasper points out on the scan. "And an arm," he adds.

"Yes I can actually see for myself in spite of these ridiculous spectacles," Eleanor informs him.

"Look how its moving about. It looks like its floating inside there," Eleanor props herself up on an elbow and leans forward to get a better look at the ultrasound. She forgets her attitude, and is now enthralled in the wonder of their tiny little baby on the screen in front of them.

This is the first time they've seen the baby move, and Eleanor sees it for the first time as its own person, wrapped up in its own world inside her belly.

The nurse says something to Jasper and he looks at her for several seconds.

He turns to Eleanor. "She says its a boy baby. And he looks perfectly healthy," he tells her, squeezing her hand. "We're having a boy," he sounds like a child opening presents at Christmas.

Eleanor stares back at him, "a boy," she repeats. "And he's _perfect_."

A tear trickles down her face as she looks at her baby on the screen, beaming.

They sit there holding hands watching the new life in front of them in awe.

The nurse watches them both silently. She knows they don't understand half of what she tells them, but they look exactly like all new parents do, and she doesn't need any words from them to tell her how they feel. It's written all over their faces.

A few minutes later Eleanor's up and dressed and they're on their way out of the clinic. They're sitting in the car and Jasper switches on the ignition when Eleanor freezes, then takes his hand in hers.

She shifts his hand from the steering wheel onto her stomach and he can feel the vibrations of the baby kicking. It's not the first time she's felt this over the past week, its happened three times before but every time Jasper has been at work.

Jasper's face is pure wonder.

"He's got a good kick on him," Jasper says, grinning.

"He's going to be a fighter," Eleanor says firmly, gently rubbing her stomach with her other hand, and her voice is fierce with pride. "He's going to be a _survivor,_ " she adds, because she has to believe this now that she knows and loves this baby.

"Like his mother. And his Dad," Jasper adds.

He leans over and kisses Eleanor on the forehead. "You're going to be the best mom. We're going to be the best family," he says, as if no one could ever dare challenge him.

Eleanor settles back in her seat as Jasper puts the car in gear and they drive through the streets of the city.

Seeing the baby today has changed everything. Because now it doesn't matter that she can't have everything she wants here, that she is far from home. Her arguments with Jasper doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is her baby, and for him to be part of a family that loves him.

That is the only thing that matters and that is _everything._


	20. Chapter 20

_Thanks for your reviews, story is nearly at an end. Two more chapters now I think. Glad you have enjoyed it so far_

* * *

Eleanor's sitting in the living room enjoying the last of the day's late summer sunshine.

In front of her on a mat sits a chubby four month old baby with blond curls and blue eyes, shaking a rattle in his hands and looking up at her in delight at his achievement every time he bangs it and makes a noise.

"Did you make that noise?" Eleanor coos at him, tickling his tummy.

He giggles back at her.

"Yes you did, didn't you? What a clever boy you are, aren't you?"

He's still chortling with laughter as she tickles him some more, and then picks him up and settles him in her arms, rocking him back and forth.

She knows he likes the rocking motion, because whenever he's fussy he settles down immediately if he's taken for a walk in his pram or when she or Jasper walk him around the room, rocking him gently.

Eleanor has her cheek resting on her baby's head, as she straightens his t shirt, pulling it down from where his round little tummy has become exposed.

She looks up at Liam, who's sitting in a chair on the computer and watches him.

"You know you can't keep that up Liam. It's dangerous," she says, finally.

Liam looks back at her clearly debating whether he should deny what he's been doing or be truthful about it.

He decides to be straight up with his sister. "It's been over a year now since Robert and Dad were killed and no one's been held accountable for it. No one knows the truth. _And no one cares,"_ he adds, and his voice sounds tormented. "Don't you think we owe it to them to try and get some justice?" he asks.

It's not as if Eleanor hasn't been kept awake at night by this question, but she's drawn her own conclusions from it. She too has been doing exactly what Liam is - trawling the internet to see what she can find out about the new regime in England and if there is any opposition to it.

What she's discovered makes her think they're very dangerous.

"You know that our family aren't the only ones who were killed?" Eleanor questions. "That hundreds of others have gone missing too? Politicians, activists. That people are still being taken?" she adds.

Liam nods. It's not just the deaths of his family that are firing him up, its also the deaths of so many more innocent people.

"Lenny, I want to do something. I want to bring this to the world's attention. To tell people the truth so that the world can put pressure on the regime," he bursts out with.

Eleanor gets up, carefully holding her son in her arms and goes to sit next to her brother.

"All of their crimes are already recorded," she says slowly, putting a hand on her brother's arm which is tense with anger. "You know that, you've read the Amnesty International Report same as I have. Everything is there except for Dad and Robert's death."

Her brother nods, tears pricking in his eyes.

Eleanor continues, and it hurts her to say this but she has to tell him straight. "The information is there for the rest of the world to read, they just don't care Liam. Or at least not now. Maybe one day they will. Jasper says America is covertly supporting the government and that means that they will suppress any opposition to the new regime from other countries and their own people. I just don't think that anything you or I can do or say will make any difference. The only thing we will succeed in doing is getting ourselves killed."

Eleanor passes Liam her son Alexander, and he finally manages to bring a smile to her brother's face when he grabs Liam's finger in his hand and squeezes it. "Hey, there Alexei," Liam greets him, using the Russian short form of Alexander. Eleanor knows how dear her son is to Liam.

"Liam you have to think about Alex. The only reason he's safe now is because they think we're both dead and we've tried so hard to stay hidden here. If they knew we were alive they could scour the ends of the earth to find us and kill us - all of us, you, me, Jasper and the baby," her voice hitches in her throat and tears start to pool in her eyes at the thought of something happening to Jasper, to Liam or to her little son.

The baby is squirming in Liam's lap, turning to look at him and smile back at his face. "We don't have anyone else Liam," Eleanor tells him, pleading. "We have to stick together and protect each other. If anything were to happen to you, or Jasper or Alex I don't know how I could go on," she finishes, and now a tear slides down her face.

Liam looks from the baby on his knee, to his sister crying beside him.

The fire of vengeance still burns fiercely in his heart but he knows now that can't jeopardise the safety of his sister or his little nephew, an innocent child, to purse his vendetta.

He pulls his sister into his chest and puts an arm around her shoulder. "I'll let it go for now Len. I would never do anything to put you or Alex at risk. I promise you," he vows.

"Thank you Liam," Eleanor's voice in full of relief. "I want justice too for Dad and Robert and everyone else they've killed. But I can't put my family at risk to get it. Maybe one day it will be safe to say these things. Maybe one day we can go back. But not now."

They sit quietly on the couch together for another few minutes.

"Well this is a touching family portrait," Jasper announces, stepping into the room on his return from work.

"Hey, how's my best boy?," Jasper booms and little Alex turns his head, recognising his father's voice and squeals excitedly. A minute later he's in his father's arms high in the air, and then being whirled around in his arms.

"How's my best girl?," Jasper questions, still holding the baby in his arms.

He leans forward to give Eleanor a kiss, then frowns when he sees she's been crying. "You ok baby?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

Eleanor gets up and heads for the kitchen and Jasper follows with the baby in tow. The baby's resemblance to his father is already clear, and Eleanor thinks that when he grows up he'll probably be just as obnoxiously good looking. She only hopes he'll use it for good and not evil, like his father, because the girls of Yeysk are going to be in trouble if that's the case.

"I'll talk to you about this later," is all Eleanor will tell him.

"Ok," Jasper replies, running a hand down her arm. Eleanor reaches for the baby and Jasper transfers him over smoothly. She jiggles him until he giggles. "We had a good day today," she tells Jasper. "We went to the park and fed some ducks. And read Mummy's new book," she adds.

She's written another story now - a further story of Charlie's adventures which she has just submitted to her publisher.

"And then Alex vomited all over Liam's new shirt," she adds. She found that mildly amusing, having been the target a number of times herself.

That would explain why Liam was sitting on the couch wearing what appeared to be his blue t shirt which is two sizes too big.

"Sounds like everyone's been putting their best foot forward. Excellent work there little man," Jasper adds his approval, leaning forward to run a hand over his son's blond curls, and then his wife's dark hair.

"Liam's babysitting tonight. We're going out," he announces unexpectedly.

"What?" Eleanor is startled. "But I haven't organised everything for Alex. He'll need to be changed and put to bed at 8 and-"

"Just write it all down for Liam baby," Jasper says impatiently. "I'm sure he's capable of following instructions."

So that must be the reason why Liam showed up here today. He drops by every couple of days nowdays.

He'd been muttering about moving out for several months but Eleanor had told him she needed him here until the baby was born and for a the first couple of weeks after and he'd agreed to stay on with them until then. Now its been seven weeks since he rented his own place, funded by the English pupils he started tutoring three months ago.

"Where are we going?" Eleanor asks.

"It's a surprise," Jasper replies elusively.

Now she's intrigued. "I love surprises," Eleanor says enthusiastically, shifting from one foot to another with the baby in her arms.


	21. Chapter 21

"Aren't we going back to the car?" Eleanor asks as they emerge from the exit, sounding confused as Jasper starts heading in a different direction from her.

He shakes his head. "No you haven't had your surprise yet," he tells her.

"But, I thought dinner was the surprise," Eleanor tells him. They've just had an expensive meal in a French restaurant.

"I was just warming you up," Jasper tells her. "Come on," he gestures her to follow him with his head, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Eleanor rolls her eyes. Whatever Jasper has up his sleeve its probably very dirty. That would certainly fit with his request that she wear "something slutty" tonight, which she only half way complied with by wearing a short skirt with heels and a fitted top.

"Very well then but to be clear I no longer perform sexual favours for cigarettes," Eleanor announces. It's best to set firm boundaries with him she's found.

Jasper smirks, walking quickly. "I didn't need any cigarettes last night, now did I?"

Eleanor follows along behind, removing her glasses because its dark now and who's going to recognise her at night anyway. "You should consider yourself lucky you're allowed anywhere near me these days," she lectures his back, placing her glasses in her handbag. "Spending twelve hours pushing a frigging watermelon out of my vagina was not an experience I'll be signing up to repeat anytime soon."

Baby Alex actually arrived two weeks early and was only six pounds but it had still been hard work because as her Russian midwife had informed her, she was built 'like the littlest matryoshka doll.'

"If only you could resist me," Jasper tells her, his voice is alight with faux sympathy and she can tell he's wearing a smarmy expression even if she can't see his face. "Nights will start getting cold soon. You'll be wanting something hot to go to bed with," he adds, taunting her.

"Honestly Jasper, sometimes I wonder how your head manages to fit through our front door, it's so inflated," Eleanor snipes back at him.

Jasper's stopped walking and even though its dark she can tell they're in front of one of the city's older orthodox churches. It's rounded domes loom impressively against the skyline by streetlight.

"What are you doing?" Eleanor asks suspiciously, observing the way that Jasper is fiddling with the exterior of one of the windows. "Are we going to steal some of the silverware? Or the wine?"

Her mind is alight with all sorts of possibilities.

"Now you're being fucking ridiculous Eleanor. The church wine is probably weak as piss and the cheapest you can find. If I was going to steal some alcohol I would go for something a little more upmarket. You've been watching too many C grade movies," he says dismissively.

"Well, its not like I have a lot of viewing options here. If its not Russian soaps its DVD repeats of Airplane or Home Alone," she replies defensively.

These were the only two English language movies they had found in a Russian bookshop.

Jasper steps away from the building and she see's the window is now open.

"How did even you do that?" Eleanor questions. It seems to have taken him all of 30 seconds.

"I have a number of - life skills, let's just say," Jasper tells her.

His reply only adds to Eleanor's suspicion that before he joined the CIA, Jasper must have lived a colourful existence outside the law.

"You'll need to get inside now," Jasper instructs her. "I'll help you."

"Why the hell are we trying to get in there? It's pitch black inside," she argues.

"Just shut up and put your leg over here. It's all part of the surprise," he interrupts her impatiently.

"Where have I heard _that_ before?" Eleanor rolls her eyes sarcastically. "I'm pretty sure that's how I got knocked up in the first place."

"Fun times," Jasper smirks into the night, reminiscing in his head.

Eleanor feels his hands on her now and then he's manhandling her over the windowsill and into the church. Eleanor gives up protesting, deciding to go along with whatever he has planned because he's just paid for an expensive dinner and its their first night out together alone as grown ups for nearly two months.

She stands inside the church, waiting for Jasper to climb over the windowsill.

"Well?" she questions, when he's clambered over and dropped onto the floor beside her.

He doesn't answer her but takes her hand and pulls her into the nave of the church then up the aisle near to the alter.

He puts a hand inside his shirt and pulls out a lighter then flicks it and steps over towards the candles, lighting them one by one until there are a dozen candles lighting up the dark.

Then he drops down to his knees, and she finally gets what he's about.

"Eleanor Katherine Charlotte Alice Henstridge, will you marry me?"

He looks so handsome its hard to resist him, and now they have a child together, her whole future is tied up with him. But she knows she can't have everything she wants.

"I would marry you," she prevaricates, "but you and I both know we can't get married here. Well not a real marriage anyway."

Getting married would be a risk, and even if they took it they would have to use their fake names, and she doesn't want what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, the start of their future together, to be founded on lies.

Jasper takes her hand in hers, gently. "I know baby. I know we can't have a normal wedding. That's why I brought you here so that we could get married here tonight."

"But-" Eleanor starts, confused.

"It's not a proper legal marriage, but its you and me saying we'll be together for ever, that we love each other. And if it's real to us that's all that matters," Jasper tells her and his voice is clear and firm. He's already given this a lot of thought and he means every word.

He slips a hand into his pocket and produces a ring in front of her. "What do you say?" he asks.

Eleanor looks at it, then looks back at him, startled. 'That's my ring," she states. He's holding out an elegant emerald surrounded by a cluster of small diamonds with a gold band.

It was one of two rings Jasper arranged to be sold when they arrived in Russia. It was her grandmother's mother's engagement ring from the 1940s. Her mother was from a good family but not hugely wealthy, so it has more sentimental value than enormous wealth. Her grandmother passed it on to her on her eighteenth birthday because she said the emeralds matched her eyes.

Jasper nods. "I brought it back from the buyer three weeks ago," he tells her. The ring had been sold for twelve hundred euros but had cost him two thousand euros to get back. But he didn't care as long as Eleanor was happy.

And she is. "Yes," she says finally, looking back at him and her face lights up. "Yes seeing as I've already had your illegitimate child, I will fake marry you Jasper from Las Vegas. But I'm not promising to turn you into a decent citizen, there are limits to my powers you know," she adds, warningly.

Jasper gets up off his feet. "Finally," he declares, because he's been on his knees for a while now.

He assumes a spot in front of her facing towards the church, then smirks. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tonight-"

"I feel like you're taking this _tooo_ seriously," Eleanor interrupts. "And I absolutely cannot take you seriously as a Minister of Religion."

"Russian Orthodox Priest, I'll think you'll find, based on the church we're in," Jasper corrects her, grinning.

"Yes well I appreciate this is Russia and they are a little backward here but even they have standards and they would never accept the likes of you into the priesthood Jasper," Eleanor rolls her eyes at him.

Jasper shrugs nonchalantly then steps off the raised platform, to stand opposite her, then unfolds a piece of paper. He suspected she wouldn't tolerate him assuming a clerical role for long, but he did enjoy messing with her for a little bit.

"Let's cut to the chase then," he says, and he takes her hand in his.

"I Jasper take you Eleanor to be my wife," his voice has lost the humour of a minute ago, and now he sounds serious, and he's watching her, his eyes never leaving her face. "I will love you, comfort you, honour and protect you, forsake all others and be faithful to you as long as we both shall live."

Eleanor's face is radiant with happiness as he speaks to her. She's too caught up in his face and his words to remember what he's said to her word for word. "Can you tell me what I say?," she asks him.

"I Eleanor take you Jasper to be my husband," he tells her.

"I Eleanor take you Jasper to be my husband," she repeats, holding his hands.

"I will love you, comfort you, honour and protect you," Jasper says.

"I will love you, comfort you, honour and protect you," Eleanor says, smiling back at him.

"Forsake all others and be faithful to you as long as we both shall live," Jasper continues.

"Forsake all others and be faithful to you as long as we both shall live," Eleanor finishes.

"Do you give me the ring now?" Eleanor asks, looking at him expectantly.

"Not yet baby," Jasper tells her. "There's more vows first."

"I, Jasper, take you Eleanor to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part."

He takes out the ring and slowly slides it on to her finger, "Eleanor, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage. With my body I honour you, all that I am I give to you, and all that I have I share with you Princess."

Eleanor's tearing up at his words, and she twists the ring on her finger nervously as proof that this sudden marriage is actually happening.

Jasper pulls out another piece of paper from his pocket and it has her vows on it which she reads out to him carefully, then slides the simple wedding band he produces for her at just the right moment onto his finger.

He steps in front of her once again. "Now I'm not a Priest, but I do impersonate one from time to time-"

Eleanor rolls her eyes.

"...and in the presence of God, and before this congregation-,"

"Which doesn't exist," Eleanor adds helpfully.

"...Jasper and Eleanor have given their consent and made their marriage vows to each other. They have declared their marriage by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of rings. And even though I have no religious authority to do so-"

"You're a bloody heathen, is what you are," Eleanor tells him bluntly.

"I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife."

Jasper steps down and stands in front of her and takes her hand. "Those whom God has joined together let no man put asunder."

"I give myself permission to kiss the bride." He leans forward and in one debonair move sweeps Eleanor off her feet and kisses the life out of her.

When he let's her go, Jasper still has a hand around her waist and an evil twinkle in his eye. "And now let's consummate this marriage, baby" he whispers into her ear.

She doesn't object to that idea at all. "Yes, but where?" she asks.

"Right here," he tells her, and now she gets why he's been looking so cunning and pleased with himself.

"Isn't that sacrilege?" she questions.

"We are married," he reasons with her.

"Fake married," she corrects him.

He's running a hand up her legs, pushing her short skirt ever higher and any resistance she may have had to the idea is quickly fading.

"It's not so much sacrilege as forbidden," he whispers in her ear. "Hot."

"Naughty," she breathes, as his hand slides under her top.

"Yes well I suppose we've already been illegally married by you impersonating a Priest so I guess screwing each other in a church would be the next logical step to ensure the Russian Church will be literally turning over in its grave," Eleanor sighs. "Though if we've been struck by lightening in the morning I'm holding you responsible," she threatens him.

"I'm willing to take that risk," Jasper replies manfully.

Before she even knows it they are naked on the floor, wrapped in each other's arms, and her arms are laced around his neck.

Jasper has his lips locked into hers but he turns his head to the side for a moment and watches her.

He touches her ring. "I want you to be safe. I want you to never have to worry about our child. I want you to have everything. I want so many things for you Eleanor. But most of all I want you to be mine. Always."

"I will be yours forever and you'll be mine. We belong together," Eleanor tells him, pressing her hand into his chest.

He takes her hand in his and presses it against his skin and she can feel his heart beat beating strong and clear.

"I love you Eleanor," he tells her. It's not the the first time he's said those words to her because that was in the hospital when she was lying with their son in her arms for the first time, but he's generally a man of few words so she's only heard it a few times since and it still makes her heart start to rush.

"I love you too," Eleanor replies back.

Jasper pushes her hair back from her face and pulls her in closer, smirking. "I think what we need now is less talk and more consummating."

Eleanor raises an eyebrow. "Well get on with it-"

She doesn't even get to finish her sentence before Jasper has grabbed her and is enthusiastically following her instructions.

* * *

 _I apologise to anyone who might have been offended by these two and their blasphemy. I'm going to blame them both, but mostly Jasper for their bad behaviour_

 _The next chapter will be the last one and an epilogue. Thank you if you've been reading and following (and reviewing also) this story so far._


	22. Epilogue

_So this is maybe not how you thought this story would end, but anyway here we go. I guess I was going for something a little bit different here._

 _Also not sure if everyone has read the previous chapter - if you haven't then do that first - that's the ending in this time period._

 _Just adding a little comment that I was thinking of quite a few different historical things when I wrote this story - the Russian Revolution, Chile in 1973, Yugoslavia in the 1990s. Things weren't quite as bad for the people of England in this story as in a lot of those places but there are lots of examples of governments or royal families being overthrown by coups or tyrants. I guess I was kind thinking that in free countries we often assume that democracy is what is 'normal' but in most times and places its not and it can easily be threatened._

 _Thanks for reading and reviewing throughout the story._

* * *

 _Epilogue: The year 2043._

In a cold land, two little Frosts are now full grown but they will never know their real name. Alexander the eldest, or Alexei as he prefers to be known - is a striking young man with blond hair and arresting blue eyes. He looks like Jasper, but his heart is like Liam. He is warm and good natured, always wanting to do the honourable thing.

It wasn't until he was eight that they had their second child, because at first she'd vowed never to go through childbirth again. But, somehow over time the idea crept up on her that if her son was like Liam _maybe_ if they had a second child there might be something of Robert or her father in him, and she wants so badly to have some trace of them still with her in this lifetime, so far from home.

Their second child was a daughter and from the moment she opened her eyes it was clear that she took after Eleanor in looks and temperament. Eleanor understood then that she was wrong to try to recapture something that was long gone.

* * *

A generation passes before the General dies. Power passes to his son, but his grip on power is not as absolute as his father's and after two years he is deposed from office. Over the next year the vestages of democracy gradually return until they have, once again, an elected Prime Minister and Parliament.

Her brother returns, but the Monarchy is an irrelevance by this time. The former Prince Liam is pensioned off at the ripe old age of 48. He marries shortly after to a former aristocrat with a passion for horses but they have no children.

Eleanor watches from afar, feeling her brother's heartbreak to have waited a lifetime in exile for a chance to shine only to have it cruelly ripped from him in a matter of weeks.

And then she finally returns to the country she was born in, with her family in tow. When she left England she was 21, a wild and spoilt little girl. Now she is a mother, an author, still beautiful but with a wealth of life experience at 48.

When they get to London, Jasper and Eleanor sit down with their children and explain to them the real reason why they're here, which is not for a holiday as they've said. But because their mother was once a Princess and their uncle was a Prince and they will meet their grandmother, the former Queen for the first time.

Alexei listens carefully to what they have to say but Marina is all defiance.

"I don't fucking believe you," she declares when they tell her. Jasper finally only convinces her by bringing up a photo from the internet of Princess Eleanor, aged 20 and it is like looking into a mirror at her own reflection of herself at 19. Eleanor searches for the photos of her father, and older brother and mother and shows her children their lost family.

That evening her mother comes to meet them. Eleanor is no longer 21 and rebellious and she's been in want of her family for so long, has imagined this moment so many times that there are no recriminations or resentment only love that they are finally reunited, delight to see her daughter's family and a sense of sadness that she's missed so much of seeing them grow up.

The next day they make the long trek to North Wales together, and Liam joins them there.

Six weeks ago Liam appeared before an inquiry to give evidence of what happened to their brother and father, and ten days ago as a result of that a monument was erected here.

Eleanor doesn't want to be found. The new democracy is still tenuous and she's afraid what it might mean for her children to be royal if the country falters again. For lack of evidence to the contrary, she is written off as presumed dead by the inquiry. Her life is recorded up until the age of 21, but thereafter she will be erased from the history books.

They stand near a thicket of woods on a cold winter's day. Carved into stone is her father and brother's name, and Jasper holds her hand as she finally has a chance to say goodbye, 27 long years after its happened. She cries for the King, and for the Prince and finally for the third name on the monument - her own - for the girl she once was and everything that was taken from her inside this house.

The General is dead and gone but four of his supporters have been placed on trial and imprisoned, so she and Liam and her mother can finally claim to have vengeance for their father and brother, husband and son's deaths.

She sits with her brother on the chair by the monument, wrapped up against the elements in a hat, winter coat and scarf, while their family walks through the fields nearby.

"Remember you said that maybe one day we could go back and we could have justice for Robbie and Dad?," Liam asks her.

Eleanor nods. It was years ago, because Alexei was just a baby and now he is man, but it feels like yesterday.

"This is the day, Len" Liam tells her. And Eleanor leans into him and rests her head against his shoulder, and they are close again like they were in the womb, like they were as children and like they will always be as twins.

"We kept our promise to them," Eleanor says. "And we _survived_ ," she adds, and her voice is fierce.

* * *

Seasons pass - summer turns to autumn and autumn to winter. They have a decade with her mother before the former Queen Helena dies aged 82 of a stroke.

Like the last fruit of summer, the former Princess and spy mature and grow old, as their children do after them.

England grows rich and powerful once more as memory dims and people forget their ever was a Monarchy.

Eleanor's name and those of her family fade and grow indistinct with time on the memorial near the thicket of woods in a remote part of Wales.

But here's something most people don't know. Long after everything of the world they knew has been forgotten, and long after they are gone, the blood of the English Royal Family lives on through its last Princess.

 _The end_


End file.
